


For love is always with you and love is stronger than death is

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Tags at Start of Chapters, Canon Asexual Character, Explicit Sexual Content, Kinktober 2020, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: Kinktober 2020 - Zoscar Edition
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 429
Kudos: 138





	1. First Time (E)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and welcome to Kinktober 2020!
> 
> I’ve got about 18 of these written so far and they range from light M to hard E. I’m not going to fill the tags with every single kink, but I will make sure it’s clear at the start of each chapter what’s involved so you can pick your poison for the day.
> 
> A little housekeeping (sorry, this is actually rather long, but important):
> 
> 1\. Prompts were taken from [@quacking-feck](https://quacking-feck.tumblr.com/post/614490904951160832/early-kinktober-list-for-2020)’s list on tumblr/Ao3, and this was the best list I found because it gave me a lot of options to play around with to make sure it fit for Oscar and Zolf, which leads me on to -
> 
> 2\. Zolf is a canon biromantic asexual character, according to Ben Meredith. Each of these prompts was filled with that mindset, some reference it directly and some do not. I personally have the headcanon that Zolf is sex neutral/positive, but I readily admit as a not-ace person I have not lived the same sort of life. Please pull me up on anything I overstep on.
> 
> 3\. The title is taken from The Canterville Ghost, because Oscar Wilde was a big ol’ romantic.
> 
> 4\. There is only one fic in this lot that has Angst(™), but if you’re looking for some sort of sad accompaniment to my big old smutfest, I can’t recommend @Miri1984’s [Whumptober](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736232/chapters/65226832) enough. It’s going to hurt, and we’re going to like it.
> 
> Finally, apparently people usually write Kinktober prompts for a variety of pairings. In writing 18 instances of Oscar and Zolf _in flagrante_ , I have figured out why (:

(tags: first time, handjobs, discussions of sexual preferences, cuddling, praise kink, Oscar using magic when technically he shouldn't be able to pls ignore)

“Oscar.”

He feels the lips against his throat quirk at the uneven tone of his voice. “Zolf.” Comes his name, muffled in the skin of his throat.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” He breathes, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the scratch of Oscar’s teeth on his pulse.

“Oh, I think I rather do.”

It’s easy to give in to Oscar’s kisses, to enjoy the skillful display of a man who knows entirely how good he is at the art of seduction and has turned it full force on one Zolf Smith. Zolf shivers at the feel of Oscar’s cock pressed against his thigh and smiles into the embrace with a heady sort of overwhelming feeling of _rightness_.

“I want you to feel good.” He breathes, flushing at the broken moan that draws from Oscar. “But m’not bothered about it for me.”

Oscar stills, the thumb that had thus far been smoothing along his cheekbone pausing in its gentle caress. “Okay.” He says quietly, eyes going all soft. “Never?”

Zolf tips his head to the side, feeling a little overcome by the tender, focused attention Oscar is giving him. “Not never, no. Just… not often. Comes and goes, you know?”

“I understand.” Oscar nods, dragging his thumb down to press at Zolf’s lower lip. “Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable. I would hate to think you’re doing this because you feel beholden to.”

Zolf gives a quick nod, surging forward to kiss Oscar again and moving one palm to press over the hard curve of Oscar’s cock, slowly flexing his wrist and teasing another moan from the man. “I promise. Never gonna be a… _burden_ or whatever to get you off Oscar. You make such pretty noises.”

The heat in Oscar’s eyes as the bard reclines back onto the bed makes him feel slightly dizzy. Zolf follows as if drawn by a thread right along with him, efficiently divesting him of the rest of his clothing. He licks at his palm and then lowers it to grasp Oscar tight.

“Fuck, _fuck_ Zolf!” 

“Walls are thin.” Zolf chuckles. “You do something about that?”

Zolf doesn’t stop touching Oscar’s cock, watching in amusement as he tries to find his voice and move his hands without clenching them. Within a few seconds all of the remaining sound from beyond the bed becomes muted.

“Very good, Oscar.” Zolf says, pleased and amused in equal measure when Oscar’s cock throbs a bit in his hand. He peers at the additional flush on the man’s cheeks with interest. “That works for you, huh?”

“ _No_.” Oscar grinds out, the tendons in his neck standing proud when Zolf twists his wrist just _so_.

Zolf lets him have this one, working instead to help him reach his peak and drowning in every cry, every sigh and encouragement that Oscar gives, his body going tense and trembly in the loveliest way. When he starts to arch his back and thrust up into the contact, Zolf places a palm heavy on his hip and watches him writhe at being constrained in the simplest way. 

It’s been a while, Zolf knows, and for a man like Oscar, that’s a punishment of an intense degree. It doesn’t surprise him when Oscar comes quickly with a shout that’s almost pained, pulsing and spilling over his grip until he is weak and oversensitised.

“C’mere.” He says, hands grabbing at the air, eyes still screwed shut as goosebumps rise along the expanse of his torso.

“I’m still dressed Oscar, let me…”

“No, just for a minute. Let me hold you.”

Zolf smiles, watching the simple pleasure it gives Oscar to have him agree and shuffle up the bed. He slots against Oscar’s side, feels one arm come around him and the other catch up his wrist, dropping one spell and casting prestidigitation on the mess on his palm.

“Figures you’d be a cuddler.” He mutters, tucking his nose against Oscar’s throat to feel the racing of his pulse.

Oscar doesn’t mention the eagerness with which Zolf has embraced him in turn, just hums a simple sound of contentment and holds him tighter and together they drift in a simple sort of afterglow that’s theirs alone.


	2. Hickeys (M)

(tags: hickeys, marking, (light) possessiveness)

Oscar settles at his vanity with a sigh. The muscles in his legs are tired from walking, tight and sore as he moves between standing and sitting. It is doing _wonders_ for his figure to be this active, though, and he admires the increased toning in his stomach and chest in the mirror’s reflection.

He traces his fingers over his heart, across to his sternum, where he presses down on the bruise that he finds there. Oscar fights down a fierce shiver when remembering the heat in Zolf’s eyes when he left it, lips and teeth working to make sure his presence was recorded for another day.

Zolf, it turns out, likes to mark him. And given his years of refusing to even allow his conquests to stay the night, there’s a simple thrill in carrying the physical reminder of his lover’s presence into the following days.

Oscar shifts his weight and turns to see the bruise on his side, then the one on his pec, fading now but ringed by the imprints of Zolf’s teeth.

And finally, the one on the side of his throat, that he, regretfully, needs to cover up.

He sets about making up his face, going through the familiar motions of concealer, powder, a little hint of rouge in the cheeks. He adds kohl today, but only the barest amount, and Zolf finds him as he’s finishing off the act of concealing his latest bruise.

The dwarf grumbles as he realises what’s going on, unimpressed by Oscar’s continued desire to hide the marks he leaves behind. He doesn’t see the point in hiding that they fuck from people who already know, but Oscar will cling to basic decorum til his dying breath. 

Everybody might _know_ that he and Zolf spend their nights together but they haven’t earned the right to the evidence.

“You ready yet? Carter’s getting antsy.”

“You can’t hurry art, Zolf.” He shoots back, smiling when the familiar face of his lover appears over his shoulder in the mirror. 

Zolf grunts, unimpressed, and resolutely drags Oscar’s hair to the side that he left the last bruise on. 

Oscar watches, captivated, as Zolf lowers his mouth to the base of Oscar’s neck, just above his collar, and _sucks_ , hard and rhythmic, green eyes bright with mischief and fixed on Oscar’s reflection. Oscar is _so_ weak, feels his body immediately start to respond to the mix of pain and pleasure, his heartbeat picking up and a heavy sort of interest settling in the base of his stomach.

Zolf sucks a final time and follows it with a sharp nip of his teeth and Oscar _moans_ , shuddering.

“There. No time to cover that one, we’ve got a meeting.”

“ _Zolf_!” 

Zolf smirks, a hundred things left unsaid as he lets Oscar’s hair fall back into place. “Hurry up, Wilde.”

Oscar doesn’t watch him go, instead turning his head this way and that to see if the still-faint bruising is visible at all. With a groan of annoyance, he pushes to his feet and moves to quickly finish getting dressed.

Let them bloody see. Just this once.


	3. Orgasm Denial (E)

(tags: orgasm denial, handjobs, aftercare)

Zolf settles back from Oscar’s cock with a faint smile, watching it bob as Oscar arches fruitlessly in search of stimulation.

“I can’t—.” Oscar groans, unfocussed gaze searching him out and scowling at the smug happiness on his face. “I regret my choices.”

“Do you now.” Zolf murmurs, leaning in to blow a cool breath over the glistening tip of Oscar’s cock. 

“ _Zolf_.” Oscar says, and it’s not begging, not yet, simply chastising and put-out. “I should have known better than to challenge you.”

“Yes.” Zolf says, simple and plain, as much to make Oscar laugh as to make it abundantly clear - he really should have known better.

Zolf takes Oscar back in hand, rubbing a thumb across his frenulum and watching as he _writhes_ , gasping and fisting a hand in the pillow. Zolf knows him well enough by now to catalogue the twisting of his expression, the pinching of his brow, the way that he pleads so openly…

He pulls his hand away and revels in the lengthy whine that turns into a curse, Oscar’s mouth spouting filth as he simply _smiles_. To see him brought so low as to lose his airs and graces and give in to the baser side of his personality… Oh, but it’s a sheer fucking delight.

“Zolf.” Oscar sounds positively wrecked, voice raw with the amount of denial Zolf has dealt him. “Pl—.”

Zolf leans down, dragging his tongue up Oscar’s cock and sucking light at the head. Oscar howls out a wordless sound, too close, too _close_.

“My retribution will be swift and unrelenting.” He pants, wincing at the gentle path of Zolf’s hand up his chest.

“Course it will.” Zolf hums, as he returns his touch to Oscar’s cock, using slow pulls to get the man’s hips moving once more. He uses his free hand to pluck at Oscar’s nipples and sets him shivering anew. 

“This time.” He says, just to see Oscar’s relief, to feel the pulse and throb of release creeping closer…

Oscar comes, finally, spilling white over Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf works him through it with a tender care, backing off when he senses it becoming too much and watching the rapid rise and fall of Oscar’s chest. The man stays very still for a long time, but the blissful smile on his face makes Zolf feel justified in going to fetch a cloth to tend to him with, clearing some of the sweat from his chest and stomach.

“I love you.” He says, clutching with weak fingers at Zolf’s wrist.

Zolf smiles up at him, finding some peace in the act of taking care of him in lieu of a simple magical spell. 

“Love you too, Oscar.”


	4. Blindfold (E)

(tags: blindfolds, (slight) sensory deprivation, body worship, handjobs, blowjobs)

“You need a break.”

Zolf scoffs, rolling his shoulders. “Chance’d be a fine thing.”

“Zolf.” Oscar says, serious, and doesn’t speak again even as Zolf turns his attention fully. The line of his shoulders is fiercely solid, full of tension and obligation. He doesn’t think he can afford it, because Oscar is so frequently a source of worry to him that he’d rather overlook every single one of his own needs.

No longer. Not tonight, at the very least.

“Sit on the bed.”

Zolf’s lips twist in amusement, but he walks away to do just that, legs emitting little chuffs of air as he does so. Oscar walks to their closet, searches through the meagre accumulations of their life in Japan and pulls out his target with a little ‘ _aha!_ ’. He turns back, the silk scarf laid across his hands, and watches a mixture of _intriguing_ emotions pass over Zolf’s face.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Zolf nods.

“ _Wonderful._ ”

Oscar sits next to Zolf and leans in to wrap the scarf around his eyes, tying it tight but not uncomfortable. There is precious little need to bind him, after all. Not tonight.

Once he’s satisfied, Oscar removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, keeping his eyes on Zolf at all times. It takes a few moments for his wariness to fade, as he gives up on needing to _see_ and _know_ and instead listens and feels. Oscar sees him shift, sees the hints of his arousal and smiles. 

Good. 

Oscar moves across the room once more, dropping to his knees within touching distance of Zolf. “Is this okay?” 

Zolf nods, and looks like he’s not going to elaborate… then drops his head to hide a smile. “Yes, Oscar.”

Oscar doesn’t rush, moving his hands up to rest on Zolf’s knees first, then sliding his palms further up. One hand curls around Zolf’s hip to ground him, and the other smoothes over his groin. Going slowly, with every chance for Zolf to change his mind, Oscar starts to unfasten his trousers.

“Lift for me?”

Zolf pushes his weight up with his hands, leaving them gripping at the sheets as Oscar tugs his clothing down and discards it behind them. Oscar trails his hands up Zolf’s thighs, skirting past his growing arousal and tracing fingertips over the tattoos that disappear under his shirt. He pushes it up, revealing each trail of faded ink to his gaze and then unbuttons the rest to slide it off Zolf’s shoulders with a happy sigh.

Oscar watches the uncertain turn of Zolf’s mouth fade as he eases his touch over his tattoos, keeping it light and teasing. Zolf shivers, leaning into each swipe of his fingers, anticipating in the absence of being able to see what Oscar is doing. 

“You are exquisite.” Oscar murmurs, leaning in to run his lips across Zolf’s heart, tracing his tongue across the prongs of the trident that sits there. When Zolf stiffens, he hums. “Don’t try and deny it.”

“You didn’t gag me.” 

Oscar grins. “I could, if you want.”

He doesn’t comment on the full-body shudder that that suggestion implies, dragging his mouth down Zolf’s stomach and letting his lips encircle Zolf’s cock. He gives a soft groan at the heat of Zolf’s skin, feeling the effect of his actions in the sudden tension of his lover’s thighs, the sounds of pleasure that colour the air.

Sitting back on his heels, Oscar replaces his mouth with his hand and drinks in the way Zolf reacts with greedy eyes. A part of him misses the honesty of Zolf’s gaze but there is something to be said for giving him this moment free of thoughts and worries. The blindfold always soothes him in the most complete way, turns off his brain and allows him time to _feel_.

Oscar teases him through to orgasm with gentle, heated kisses, tender turns of phrase and a familiarity with his body that makes Zolf weak in short order. He sits back, running a thumb along his lip, and smiles at the way Zolf’s shoulders have softened, body flushed and relaxed. 

“Shall I remove the blindfold?”

Zolf shakes his head. “No, uh. Not right away. Help me into bed?”

Oscar kisses him then, deep and searching. “Anything for you, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zolf's tattoos inspired by the always-gorgeous work of [@areyouokaypanda](https://areyouokaypanda.tumblr.com/).


	5. Size Difference (M)

(tags: physical size difference appreciation, dirty thoughts, body appreciation, smorching) 

There is something about being with Zolf that makes him feel _small_ , a pleasant contradiction in terms. Zolf’s body is built for strength and force, compared to his willowy tall frame. He’s never struggled with the fact that he tends to stand out, but he can’t claim to have expected the dwarf that waltzed into his life and taught him how to submit.

He told Hamid once that it was about the _ratio_. What he didn’t elaborate upon was why he spoke on it with such certainty.

He loves to watch Zolf move: thick thighs carrying him through the world, strong arms lifting his weapon and channeling healing energy into his allies. Loves the curve of his stomach, the heft to his torso that hides the true strength of his core. The thickness of his fingers and cock as they—. 

“Oscar… Where's your head at?”

Oscar hums, drawing up one of Zolf's hands between both of his, pressing kisses to the tip of each finger in turn. “Thinking of you.”

“Didn't know I was so distracting.”

Oscar huffs, drawing Zolf's hand to rest over his heart. “You are infinitely distracting. Everything about you. It drives me to near mindless lust on a regular basis.” 

Zolf laughs, tugging his hand away. “You always were a bit funny in the head.”

“Zolf…” Oscar pouts, tucking fingers in his belt and dragging him close. With a leer, Oscar smoothes hands over Zolf's thighs, up to cup his backside and _squeeze_. “Everything. About. You.”

“Horny bastard.” Zolf mutters through a secretly pleased smile, leaning in and kissing him, open door of the office be damned. 

Oscar thrills at the loop of solid arms around his waist, making him feel small and safe. He preens into the kiss, groaning when Zolf moves a hand up to cup the back of his neck, holding him in place with quiet dominance. 

“You need something more?” Zolf's voice comes in a husky whisper, barely moving away to speak. 

Oscar shakes his head, nudging their noses in the process. “Not right now.”

“Later then.” Zolf says. “If you can wait that long.”

Oscar watches as Zolf leaves, shooting a look over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall. With a happy sigh, Oscar turns back to his correspondence and allows himself to drift back into comforting fantasies once more.

“I waited months for you Zolf. I can wait a few hours more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I have no doubt this one should have been more porny than it is but what can I say. Boys Soft. If you're here for the filth I assure you this is the least saucy of the lot.)


	6. Mirrors (E)

(tags: mirrors, consensual voyeurism, light d/s, handjobs, anal fingering)

“Look at you.”

Zolf’s voice makes him weak at the best of times, but pitched all low and approving it makes him feel hot all over. He lets his gaze settle on the dwarf’s reflection walking behind him in the mirror, shirtless and confident, and smiles when Zolf moves in close to curl a hand around his jaw and turn his eyes back to his own body.

“Wasn’t a suggestion.”

Oscar watches the pink spread over his shoulders and chest, tracks his eyes down to where he’s growing hard despite the chill of the room and the lack of contact Zolf’s allowed him so far.

They’re of a height, with him on his knees. Zolf uses it to his advantage, dragging his hand down to settle solid and possessive over Oscar’s stomach. Their skin is a study in opposites - Zolf’s tanned, weathered and tattooed to his pale, sheltered and primped. It makes him feel a bit silly, to find it so appealing. To imagine what his former acquaintances would make of him now.

“Have you ever done this before?”

Oscar smiles through Zolf’s other hand trailing down his back, slick with oil. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Zolf hums, fingers dipping lower and teasing just around his rim without committing. It’s his most and least favourite thing that Zolf does, keeping him teetering and anticipating and wanting—.

“Tell me.”

Oscar groans, leaning his head against Zolf’s shoulder. “Not my first time. But, as ever, it is infinitely better with you.”

Zolf snorts softly, no hint of derision in the sound, kissing Oscar’s cheek and taking his cock in hand. “Smooth talker. How about you make a little more noise for me.”

Oscar watches with a sort of detached interest as Zolf starts to work him over, feeling every inch of the contact but observing his reflection’s reactions like an outsider. 

He looks _good_ like this, at the mercy of his lover and panting, arching and twisting to get more from both of Zolf’s hands. It’s hard not to stare, and harder not to smile, enjoying his own performance.

“Should’ve known.” Zolf mutters, but doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t much need to, turning his head to watch as Oscar groans increasingly loudly around his name.

Oscar cheats, in the end, watching Zolf as he shudders through his orgasm, picking up the pulsing spill of his cock in his peripheral vision. Zolf’s eyes are fixed on his in turn, amused and hungry, drawing out the sheer pleasure as long as Oscar will allow. When he moves away to clean up, Oscar catalogues the result of his actions with a pleased eye. 

The light of the bedroom glints off his sweat-slick skin, his softening cock, his glinting and sated eyes. 

“If you’re quite finished.” Zolf murmurs just outside his eyeline, then a warm cloth passes over his stomach and backside and _oh_ , watching Zolf be caring and tender is almost as appealing all on its own. “Come on. That’s enough preening for one day.”

He follows Zolf to the bed with a smile and plan for the next night already half-formed in his brain. 


	7. Fingering (E)

(tags: anal fingering, overstimulation, aftercare)

There are few things that have brought him so much unexpected joy in his life as Zolf Smith, crouched between his legs, brow furrowed with concentration and fingers probing as his ass.

“You look so serious.” He breathes, arching when Zolf slips one thick finger inside him. 

"Didn't think you'd appreciate a bloody carefree attitude." Zolf grunts, reaching for more oil and wiggling the bottle at him. "Want me to pick up the pace?" 

Oscar groans, giving a soft stretch and watching as Zolf's eyes trace over his chest. "No need." He says, all louche and lazy. "At least not until I'm begging for it."

There's something to be said for the wisdom of goading his lover in the middle of an act like this, but he knows Zolf well enough by now. He knows what he's bringing on himself, and the little growl that Zolf gives only backs that surety up.

“Turn over.” He says, pulling his hand away and making Oscar gasp from the sudden loss of it.

Oscar gives a little pout, pushing up to a seated position. “You’ll deprive me of the sight of your handsome face?”

“Yes.” Zolf smiles, leaning in to kiss him all too briefly. “Turn over.”

Oscar does so, but only because the little thrill of command in Zolf’s voice is so appealing. He settles on his knees and lays his chest as flat as he can before looking back over his shoulder at Zolf. 

It is quite something to be summarily ignored by the person with their fingers inside you but Oscar soon loses the ability to focus in turn, hiding his face in his forearms and loosing a long, hungry groan.

“Wish you could see yourself.” Zolf murmurs, smoothing more oil around and into him with a careful hand. He almost _coos_ as he spreads Oscar open further, scissoring his fingers, muttering soft affirmations that make Oscar shiver and sigh. 

“Am I—.” Oscar loses himself in a moan, fighting the urge to clench around Zolf’s fingers. “ _Mmph_. Pretty as a - a picture?”

Zolf laughs, curling his fingers deeper and in doing so chasing a line of hot sparks all the way up Oscar’s spine. “Something like that.”

Oscar grinds out a plea when Zolf, cruel and unusual and oh so _good_ _to him_ , keeps pressure on the spot that makes him feel like he’s burning up from the inside. It is too much and not enough all at once, goosebumps chasing over his skin and leaving him feeling almost adrift.

He longs to put a hand on his cock, to feel it slick and heavy, but it's been years since he came untouched and there's a delicious sort of novelty in the thought of Zolf undoing him so _thoroughly…_

Zolf talks to him through it all, soft and firm, steady words encouraging him to find a release that eventually rockets through him, white hot and desperate and too much _too much, too much, too—._

When Oscar eventually stirs, his throat is sore and he feels a little dizzy, sprawled across the bed and covered with a light sheet. He feels like he’s run a marathon and got a full night’s sleep all at once, exhausted and sated in equal measure.

“There you are.” He turns his head to see Zolf standing at the bedside with a glass of water and a look that falls somewhere between proud and chagrined. “Drink this, cleric’s orders.”

Oscar smirks, pulling himself to sit awkwardly cross legged on the bed and take the proffered drink. “Well I suppose this _is_ your fault.”

Zolf smirks, settling on the edge of the bed and touching a tentative hand to his knee. “Sounds like you don’t want to do it again?”

Oscar scoffs, downing the water and leaning in close with a smirk of his own. “That’s quitter talk, Mr Smith, and I assure you I am nothing of the sort.”


	8. Corsets (M)

(tags: corsets, nudity, canon-typical Wilde being difficult even when the world is back to normal)

He hadn’t thought much of it earlier, Oscar peacocking out of their bedroom with a small smile and a squeeze of his shoulder on the way. The man had looked handsome enough, poised and styled in the sort of suit that he could only wear to an al-Tahan dinner, but they were already late and Zolf had been waiting half an hour at that point.

It was easier to settle a hand on his bum and guide him down the stairs, pretending not to enjoy Oscar’s laughter while catching up their coats and nodding thanks to their housekeeper for holding open the door.

It takes a village to get Oscar anywhere nowadays, and he’s lucky for the help.

He does notice that Oscar is sitting up a little straighter at dinner, that his suit is fitting more delicately to his slim waist. But there’s too much else going on, too many old friends to talk to, and they’re back home in the early hours before he even really realises so much time has passed.

“Zolf…?”

He sticks his head out of their ensuite at the call of his name, still drying his face, but freezes at the sight of Oscar standing naked in the middle of the room - save for a light green corset pulled tight around his stomach. In the low light of the room he looks almost ethereal, pale skin all on display without guile.

He’s well aware that he’s staring, if the faint smile turning to a smirk on Oscar’s face is any indication. The material of the corset looks so silken and soft that his fingers itch to touch it and he drops the towel without much thought, wandering over to Oscar in a daze.

“Do you like it?” Oscar asks, as if the answer isn’t clear enough. “I had to wait some time for this material. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than the precise colour of your eyes.”

His breath hitches when Zolf reaches out to touch it, tracing fingers over the fine boning, the soft binding at the top and bottom. His thumb nudges the skin that sits just below the corset and Oscar huffs out a reedy exhale, fists clenching at his side.

“Turn around.” Zolf murmurs, voice husky with unspoken emotion.

Oscar smiles, but does so without comment, showing off the lacing that ends in a bow settled against the rise of his backside. The corset is well fitted, hugging and holding Oscar like a lover’s caress. A distant pang of jealousy swells in his chest as he imagines the fittings Oscar must have gone through to get it so perfect.

But then... they don’t get to enjoy it like _this_.

Zolf reaches out to tug experimentally at the ribbon and grins when Oscar shifts restlessly from foot to foot.

“It was difficult to get it truly _tight_ on my own.” He murmurs. “But I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.” Zolf replies, faintly distracted as he gets started on unfastening the knotted bow. “Do you want it off, now? Or tighter?”

Oscar laughs, high and full of delight, goosebumps chasing along the expanse of his exposed skin. “Tighter, if you please. I’m not sure I’m done with it quite yet tonight.”

Zolf leans in, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s spine and gathering the ends of the ribbon in each hand. “Hm. That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be too sappy on main, but I've been having quite a complicated week so far, and the comments that you lovelies leave just make my day every day, I'm so grateful <3


	9. Sleepy Sex (M)

(tags: sleepy sex, non-penetrative sex, softness after saving the world)

They’ve saved the world. 

They’ve earned this. 

If nothing else, they’ve earned _this_.

Repeating this to himself is the only way he can stop from feeling guilty that his first instinct on opening his eyes to bright sunshine isn’t to shoot out of bed and get moving. Zolf yawns, burrows back into Oscar’s warm embrace and lets his eyes drift closed once more.

By the time he wakes up next, they've shifted in sleep: him on his back, Oscar sprawled half over his chest. 

He looks down, lowering his arm from above his head to tease fingertips through Oscar's hair, swiping it out of the way to see the man’s face. For the first time in as long as Zolf can remember, he doesn't have bags under his eyes. 

Oscar stirs at the interaction, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Zolf's chest to dislodge the dried patch of drool by his mouth. With a quiet smile, he leans up and steals himself a kiss, Zolf humming into the contact with a happy little shudder. 

He's not sure who moves first, or how the quiet kiss escalates to something more, but Oscar is over him before he can get his mind in gear. Oscar arches his back and groans low into Zolf’s mouth, slotting their hips together and rocking until they are both gasping and clutching at each other.

It’s not their finest hour, lazy and clumsy and full of stifled laughter as the headboard thumps rhythmically on the hotel room wall, but it makes his heart feel so full that he has to bite his lip to stifle effusively lyrical admissions of his emotions that Oscar would be proud of having written.

Oscar comes first, teeth bared against Zolf's throat in a hungry snarl that shoots right through him. He curls in on himself, hands clutching at Oscar's back and feeling the man whisper _come for me, come for me Zolf_ over and over until he shouts Oscar's name on a broken exhale, lights dancing behind his screwed-shut eyelids. 

Oscar goes to cast, to clean them up, but Zolf catches the man's hand and drags it to his lips instead, shaking his head. 

They've got time. 

There's a bathtub in this suite big enough for them to drown in (the irony is not lost on him). 

They can afford, just this once, to do things without magic.


	10. Wax Play (M)

(tags: wax play, a wee bit of marking/possessiveness)

“Are you still sure?”

Oscar feels the snort of amusement pass through Zolf, tightens his legs on either side of his lover’s hips. He supposes it was a silly question. He’s never seen Zolf this relaxed.

“What about all this suggests I’m not sure?”

With a smile, Oscar runs his hand over Zolf’s oiled skin, tracing the path of his tattoos. He’ll never get tired of this, of being the one to get to touch Zolf so freely, so tenderly. To be given such unadulterated access to such a private man.

To be able to play with him is even more of a joy.

Zolf hums softly when Oscar leans over, fetching up one of the many candles that litter their bedside table tonight. With a careful appraisal, Oscar tips the candle, letting a small dribble of wax pool on his inner forearm. It lands with a dull pulse of heat, but doesn’t _burn_ , setting relatively quickly. 

“Good.” He says, almost to himself, and blows out the flame. 

There’s a hint of anticipation in the way Zolf shifts, tilting his face to be pillowed comfortably against his forearms as Oscar assesses where to start. He wants to paint Zolf’s tattoos in his own hand. With a small smile, he sets his palm against one shoulder blade and moves the candle to hover over the other. 

A light stream of wax falls and winds over the curve of the tentacle on his skin, tracing its path up until it disappears over his shoulder. Zolf hisses, but relaxes with it, a contented hum floating on the air as Oscar holds his breath. 

He continues, enraptured, twirling and embellishing Zolf’s tattoos with a, he has to say, remarkably steady hand. The wax dries, obscuring the faded ink from his gaze. It cracks in places when Zolf inhales too sharply, fragile and impermanent unlike the man beneath.

He swaps to another candle once he’s exhausted the first, digging his fingers into the scruff of hair at the back of Zolf’s head. “Still with me love?”

Zolf grunts, a flush of heat building across his shoulders, up his neck. 

Oscar focuses on the rest of Zolf’s back with a singular purpose, not satisfied until he has covered every single line of ink, and then some. Three candles later, He finishes with a swirl of wax at the base of Zolf’s spine that, were he wielding a pen and ink, would approximate his signature.

“Did you just autograph me?”

Oscar smirks. “An artist takes credit for their work, Zolf.” He says, drinking in the sight of Zolf with a reedy sigh. “Were it that I could capture this image forever.”

“Not gonna stop you doing it again.” Zolf says, the admission quiet and a little shy.

With a wide smile, Oscar sets the final candle down and leans to press a kiss to the side of Zolf’s throat, feeling the warmly contented thud of his pulse. “Oh Zolf you are _too_ _good_ to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practice safe wax play, friends - there are lots of things that can go wrong, so make sure you're using the right sort of candles and read some guides.
> 
> Also, as before, Zolf's tattoos inspired by the amazing work of [@areyouokaypanda](https://areyouokaypanda.tumblr.com/)


	11. Sex Toys (E)

(tags: sex toys, previous kink negotiation, butt plugs, vibrators, anal penetration, light d/s, praise, next in my unconnected series of their friends giving them kinky gifts)

They’ve been together long enough now that they’ve worked out where their interests and boundaries lie quite succinctly and to each other’s _intense_ satisfaction. Getting fucked by Zolf in any form is Oscar's truest delight, but there are times when he just wants to be _full_ and those times do not always align with Zolf's desires. 

So. They start a collection. 

Some large, some small, some to stay in place for a few hours and drive him slowly out of his mind. All designed to be wielded by a dwarf with a dangerous smile and a steady hand, even through all of Oscar's desperate pleas. 

Today he's been working on his next literary venture, Zolf out of the house on errands. Before Zolf left, Oscar asked for help getting ready, which involved a beautifully tender shower and the selection of one of their smaller plugs, settled inside him with the utmost professionalism from his lover.

The smile Zolf shot him on his way out the door? Less professional, but just as welcome. 

He's been half hard all day, and it's been _quite_ the companion to his writing. It's helped him spin a certain mood into the prose that he's certain will scandalise at least half of polite society, and he smiles, fighting the urge to shift too much in his seat. 

“Productive day?”

Oscar smiles at the sight of Zolf in the doorway to his office, laying down his pen and stoppering the ink bottle. “Extremely.” 

Zolf nods, wandering over to the desk with slow and wicked confidence. Oftentimes Oscar doesn’t realise quite how much he’s been _wanting_ until Zolf is near once more. It drives all sensibility out of his mind until he’s touching his dwarf, hand curling around the back of Zolf’s neck as Zolf is so fond of doing to him in turn.

Zolf mumbles some nonsense against his mouth as they kiss, moving in close and drawing Oscar into a hungry little circling of his hips against the pressure inside him.

“Now?” Zolf asks, breathing heavily against his lips. “Or—.”

“ _Now_.” Oscar sighs.

“Here?”

Oscar nods sharply, watching with mute anticipation as Zolf walks backwards and then out of the room, presumably heading to their bedroom. When he returns, he’s a bottle of oil in one hand, and one of their newer acquisitions in the other.

(A gift, from Cel. It _vibrates_.)

The time for feeling any shame around his lover has long since passed, and when Zolf finds him already stripped off and leaning his elbows on the desk, it barely causes any reaction at all. Oscar tenses a little when Zolf gets everything ready for him, but lets it flow away when a hand smoothes down his back, resting warm at the curve of his backside.

“Ready?”

He nods, letting his hair hide his face as his head drops and he braces himself for Zolf to remove the plug. He shivers, fiercely, as Zolf sets it to one side and replaces its presence with his fingers, so much warmer, so much cleverer.

“ _Please_ Zolf.” He whispers, hands clenching into fists.

Zolf hums thoughtfully, pulling away. “Guess you’re ready. Let me take it slow.”

He’s only barely aware of the litany of words that leave his mouth as Zolf takes him, slow and steady and everything he’s needed for the past few hours. It’s enough to leave him reeling even before Zolf activates the vibrations and then it’s truly over in a blissful fog of heat and need and sensation that makes him feel like he’s floating. 

Oscar whines when Zolf’s fist wraps around him and Zolf murmurs words of affirmation, telling him how hot he looks, how good he is, how well he’s taking it. It’s too much after a day of being constantly on edge, to be praised, to be _loved_ …

He scratches his nails deep into the leather topper of his desk as he comes over Zolf’s hand and knows it will amuse him later, once he’s got his senses back. 

For now though, he hums a soft little ditty inspired by the intensity of his satisfaction, and allows himself to get lost in Zolf’s tender aftercare.


	12. Drunken Sex (E)

(tags: drunken sex (but make it hot and consensual), verbal sparring, making out, handjobs, post-canon)

“You.” Zolf says, stabbing a finger hard into Oscar's chest. “Are drunk.”

It’s impossible not to kiss him then, when he looks so alive and bright eyed. Zolf smirks as he feels Oscar hiccup into it.

“Am not!” Oscar replies, then steals another kiss, then laughs. “ _You_ , however.”

“Me?” Zolf snorts, walking backwards on unsteady legs and dragging Oscar by the lapels. “Didn't put away a glass of Azu's moonshine, did I?”

Oscar beams, stumbling a little and styling it out better than he has any right to. “And yet here I am. Completely sober.” 

Zolf barks out a laugh, because this entire damn thing is ridiculous, but it's worth it to see the width of Oscar's smile and feel the lack of tension in the room as they cross to the bed. When he feels the mattress against the back of his knees he sits, tugging Oscar with him to settle over his lap. 

The man grins, lowering his weight until Zolf can feel his arousal as a hot, hard pressure. His eyebrow quirks up, and he tips his head coyly to the side “Drunk, you say?”

“Drunk and horny? Not mutually exclusive.”

Kissing Oscar is an adventure at the best of times, but messy and hungry and lowered inhibitions might be his favourite kind of embrace, hand solid at the base of Oscar’s spine as the man tries to struggle out of the confines of a formal suit jacket. Oscar growls, shaking his arm fervently to try and dislodge the heavy material and Zolf laughs into their kiss, teeth catching on his lip in the process.

“Don’t laugh.” Oscar grumbles into his mouth, accompanied by a thud of material hitting the ground. 

His hands start to work at his shirt after tossing his ascot off across the room and Zolf holds him tighter, if only to stop him toppling over in a drunken heap. 

“ _Mrr_.” Oscar mutters, steadfastly refusing to give up on the kiss, but insisting on fussing awkwardly with the shirt’s buttons without being able to see them. “How—.”

Zolf finally pulls away, laughing a deep sort of belly-laugh to himself as Oscar immediately frowns and looks down, clumsy touch failing to make any progress at all. “How many _buttons_ does a shirt _need_?”

“Want some help?” He asks, pursing his lips to stifle more chuckles.

“No.” Oscar snipes, stubborn in all ways, but especially when buttons stand between him and a good time.

“Good thing you’re not drunk.”

Oscar sets his chin defiantly. “ _Isn’t it_.”

Zolf, still laughing quietly to himself, tugs the tails of the shirt free and starts on Oscar’s trousers, diving his hand inside to curl around Oscar’s cock. “Not sure why you’re so fixed on gettin’ naked.”

Oscar melts into him, going all lax and kissing him with soft little nips. A hand comes up to cradle his face and he barely has to touch Oscar to set him trembling. It’s lovely and hazy and the room spins just enough to make him lose himself... 

Until Oscar huffs and pulls away, his free hand having apparently worked away at his shirt again without Zolf noticing.

“Oscar.” Zolf says, very serious for someone with a cock in their hand. “Give up on the shirt or give up on the orgasm.”

Oscar pouts. He leans in so that Zolf topples back, the world going a little unsteady for them both. Zolf chuckles at his sprawling lapful of bard, teasing the arousal-slick head of Oscar's cock with his thumb. With a whine into his throat, Oscar thoughtlessly ruts into the stimulation that Zolf is providing. 

“Didn't think…” He gasps.” The sight of me naked was such an unpleasant prospect.”

Zolf grunts around the flare of annoyance in his chest, flipping them over and pinning Oscar to the bed with a hand at each shoulder. The man's eyes are dancing with good humour and victory, even as he's been left high and dry. Pushing through the discomforted swoop of his stomach, Zolf growls low and hungry and enjoys the instinctive reaction that draws from his lover. 

“You want to get naked so badly, admit it: you're as drunk as I am.”

“Okay _fine_ , Zolf. I'm drunk.” Oscar gives a slow smile. “On my love for you.” 

Zolf rolls his eyes so hard he almost loses his balance. “You and fucking loopholes.”

“I believe you were in the middle of something?”

It is neither the best nor the worst of their times together, a miracle in and of itself. Oscar comes, Zolf gets the thrill of watching him become all weak and soft and lazy in the afterglow. Once they’re cuddled up, Zolf’s head resting on Oscar’s chest, the man hums and twirls a hand in the air to create pretty little trails of lights that swirl and make Zolf feel equal parts relaxed and queasy.

“Oh Zolf, I am _so_ drunk.”

Zolf hides a smile in Oscar’s chest, shaking his head. “I know. Jury’s out on if I’ll cure you in the morning though.”

Oscar’s faint chuckle chases him into sleep. “That’s fair. That’s very fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know it's a bit uncouth to toot your own horn and believe me I am the last person to do so, but... lovelies, I really like the fills over the course of the next week. I think they're pretty neat. I hope you enjoy <3


	13. Handjobs (E)

(tags: handjobs, shared baths, reunion sex, minor voice kink, post-canon)

Oscar’s breath against his throat makes him feel unsteady, the press of the man’s chest against his back both comforting and arousing all at once. The air of the bathroom is thick with steam and the heady scents of whatever is in the bath oil that Oscar brought back from his travels earlier that day.

Zolf sighs, and it breaks into a moan at the pass of Oscar’s palm over his belly. 

“Missed me?” The man murmurs, full of impish pleasure. He knows the answer already, can feel it in the way Zolf presses back into his touch greedily. “I wasn’t away for that long, Zolf.”

Zolf grumbles, turning his head and kissing a sloppy, hungry line along Oscar’s jaw. “A week is plenty long.”

Oscar’s hand creepy further down under the water, finds him half-hard against his thigh and Zolf feels a hungry little grumble through his lips. It’s more than a little pleasant to give over to Oscar's touch, like this. For as much as he likes to steer Oscar’s pleasure—.

“Stop thinking.” Oscar says against his ear, thumb circling over the tip of his cock.

He feels the man’s lips quirk into a smile when he shudders, letting himself go limp and relying on Oscar to hold him up, his entire world fading down to the rhythmic pull of Oscar’s hand.

“Do you know…” Oscar says, because he knows what the sound of his voice does to Zolf and will exploit it mercilessly. "How much I wished you were with me this past week? How many times I thought about you, instead of paying attention to my colleagues? Curie looked at me once while I was in the middle of a particularly lurid fantasy about your fingers and I swear she saw right into my head.”

Zolf snorts out a laugh, hips moving lazily into the stimulation and drawing water to lap dangerously against the edge of the bath. “She probably did.”

“Well in that case she will know better than to take me away from you for so long and expect my enthusiastic involvement.” Oscar smiles, tightening his grip and twisting his wrist just _so_.

Oscar continues to regale him with stories of the week but Zolf can’t claim to be paying any attention, the heat in his belly growing and moving like wildfire beneath his skin. He allows the sound of his lover’s voice, warm and hot in his ear, to chase him through to release, coming with a soft cry of Oscar’s name.

“Perhaps I _should_ go away more often.” Oscar says, lifting his other hand to turn Zolf’s face to his for a kiss.

Zolf huffs, nipping at his lower lip. “Don’t you bloody dare.” 


	14. Frottage (E)

(tags: frottage/dry-humping which is entirely consensual and encouraged)

Svalbard is _cold_.

Logically, Zolf knew this, they all did, but their first night at camp in the frozen landscape is striking to all of them in its sheer overwhelming chill. Even with Hamid and Azu’s magical touch to take the edge off, Zolf sees Oscar shivering only a short while after the sun has disappeared below the horizon.

Hamid goes to mention it, but Zolf shakes his head, knowing the man won’t want it pointed out to the entire group. He leans over, settling his palm on Oscar’s forearm and feeling the vibration of shivers through his glove.

“C’mon.” He says quietly, tilting his head back towards where they’ve set up a small number of tents with heapings of furs. “You need to sleep.”

Oscar’s lips twist in amusement, but he doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s far too early to sleep. There might not be bags under his eyes anymore, but he’s still not overcome his accrued sleep debt just yet.

Once Oscar’s settled under the furs, a little colour comes back to his cheeks. Zolf admires him, stroking a gentle hand through his hair.

“Please tell me you’re joining me.”

Zolf looks out at the camp through the open flap of the tent, sees Cel, Azu and Hamid suddenly turn their attention anywhere else but staring at them. 

Terrors, the lot of them. 

“Was gonna go make sure everyone had something to eat.”

Oscar’s eyes go all wide and falsely innocent. “Mr Smith I think I might simply freeze if you don’t act as my personal hot water bottle.” He smiles when Zolf’s eyes narrow in response. “Surely as our cleric you couldn’t abide such a fate for me.”

“Alright, alright.” Zolf grumbles, shuffling over and closing the tent flap tight.

It takes him some time to find his way under the furs but once he has, settled with his back to Oscar’s chest and the bard’s arms tight around him, he has to admit that it’s more than a little pleasant to be so _warm_.

“You alright back there?”

His only answer is a soft little exhale, Oscar pulling him in even closer. Within moments the man is asleep, and, contentedly comfortable, Zolf finds it impossible not to follow soon after.

The next morning dawns bright in the way that only sunlight reflecting off of snow is able to do. Zolf stretches as much as he’s able with Oscar’s arms around him, straining to hear if there are any signs of life in the camp. Satisfied that it’s still too early to be moving, he settles back down, feeling Oscar’s lips move in a lazy kiss below his ear.

“Come here often?”

Zolf snorts, tugging off a glove and laying his hand over Oscar’s. The jolt of skin on skin makes his breath catch after so long wrapped up against the elements. Oscar shifts his hips and Zolf feels a pressure at the back of his thigh that chases that jolt in a flare of heat right down his spine.

Oscar hums out a little tune, pressing forward into the stimulation guiltlessly. With a broken sigh, he hesitates, long enough for Zolf to tut and reach back to press encouragingly at his backside. 

It makes him shudder to feel the way Oscar grinds against him, setting a hungry, needful sort of rhythm and breathing heated exhales into his throat. Zolf keeps as still as he’s able, muttering quiet little encouragements to hear Oscar’s hitched breaths and stifled moans. 

The world narrows down to just the two of them. Zolf contents himself with remembering how Oscar looks when reaching the peak - the bright shine of his eyes, the slick redness of his kiss-bruised lips. The way his brow pinches just before he comes, gaze unfocussed and hungry.

Oscar stifles a high cry in the meat of Zolf’s shoulder, shaking through his orgasm and holding Zolf tight enough to _ache_. Zolf drags his hand over Oscar’s as the man whimpers tender little sounds of pleasure. It feels like a moment just for them, stolen from a world that gives so little now. The satisfaction of Oscar’s release makes him feel warm down to his very core.

“Good mornin’.” He whispers, feeling the quirk of Oscar’s smile against his skin.

“Mm. It certainly is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some thoughts about this chapter that I have [rot13'd](https://rot13.com) for non-Patrons because I feel like I have to say something even if I don't want to spoil 174. Just copy the below and paste it into the website linked to read, if you want. Cw: swears.
> 
> Shpxvat bs pbhefr V unir gb cbfg gur Finyoneq-frg svyy gur qnl nsgre/bs Jvyqr'f pnabavpny qrngu shpxvat jung gur shpx. Guvf vf bar bs zl SNIBHEVGRF gung V jebgr naq abj V'z whfg fnq. V nz fb natel ng gur jnl guvf jbexrq bhg orpnhfr V jnf ynhtuvat nobhg vg bayl lrfgreqnl, jbhyqa'g vg or shaal vs? Ab, vg'f abg shaal. Naljnl, V'z tbvat gb vzntr guvf pbzrf nsgre Bfpne'f orra erfheerpgrq, naq lbh'er jrypbzr gb nf jryy <3
> 
> I have another fic for later. Love you all <3


	15. Masturbation (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Oscar. 
> 
> It's another of my favourites and... yeah. Enjoy some pure unbridled Oscar Wilde.

(tags: masturbation, performance, striptease, consensual voyeurism, aftercare)

“I _miss_ performing.” Oscar says with a weary sigh, gesturing wildly with his glass of sake. “Do you know how it feels to have eyes trained upon you, drinking in your every move and applauding you for the cleverness of your act?”

Zolf looks up from his book with a frown. “Are you askin’ or…?”

“I once sang for a room full of foreign dignitaries and made at least half of them _weep_ , Zolf. The _power_ of it.” He sips at his drink and sighs again. “Intoxicating.”

There is something very appealing about the thought of Zolf seeing him on stage, about being able to _impress_ the sour thing with a clever turn of phrase or a well-constructed little ditty. He glances across the room, expecting the dwarf to have turned back to his book. Instead, there's a pair of cool green eyes appraising him in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks, barely keeping a tremble from his voice. 

Zolf shrugs, folding the book closed in his lap. “I'd watch you.” He pauses, giving a smile that says more than his words ever could. “ _Perform_.”

Oscar grits his teeth to halt a soft moan escaping his lips, chasing it down with the rest of his sake. 

They're still defining what it means to be with one another, navigating the complexity of his needs versus Zolf's. He cannot claim not to be delighted when Zolf's playful side comes out, surprising him and charming him equally. Still, he doesn't wish to overstep… 

“What would you have me do?”

Zolf stands then, sudden and looking like he's almost surprised himself. He holds out a hand and Oscar is weak, so weak, and reaches for it without hesitating. 

Zolf leads him down the hall in silence, heading for Oscar's room. Once inside, Zolf gestures to the bed and walks over to his vanity to fetch a chair, moving it to a particularly telling vantage point, close to the bed but not touching. 

“I'd like to point out that you haven't elaborated.”

Zolf hums, reaching up to hook a finger in his waistcoat and pull him down, kissing the open fall of his mouth with deep, searching hunger. The effect of it is instant, Oscar feeling his body respond with curious interest. 

“You'll think of something.”

He does, of course, a hundred things floating through his head like a lurid little programme of events. Overture, first act, second act and the glorious finale. Perhaps an encore, if he's lucky. It’s been quite a while since he had to improvise this way, but he gets a feel for it almost immediately, straightening his shoulders and moving his hands to his throat to begin to unbutton his shirt.

Zolf settles himself down, watching with heated eyes as Oscar starts to strip, injecting a little attitude into the simple motions but not too much, because this isn’t a burlesque and he has _not_ trained for that sort of show. To do so would be to make a mockery of the amount of talent required for a truly effective striptease.

By the time he is nude he’s already hard, his cock straining up towards his stomach in such a way that makes him feel young again. Truly, this new life with Zolf has brought many unexpected thrills but a renewed sexual appetite is one of the ones he was least prepared for.

He settles himself on the bed, up against the wall and wraps his hand around himself with a soft exhale. His eyes fall shut for a moment as he works out what he needs from this, but his skin prickles too much with the feel of Zolf’s eyes on him. Oscar forces his eyes open once more and stares straight at his lover, heartbeat thudding faster at the singular focus Zolf’s giving him. 

A captive audience, indeed.

He glances down his body, notes the spreading flush across his chest and thumbs one of his nipples as he twists his grip, fighting the urge to speed up. He wants to make this last, wants to give Zolf something worth watching. 

His mistake is looking up through his eyelashes. Zolf swipes his tongue over his lower lip and Oscar’s mind cascades into flashing memories of Zolf’s mouth, Zolf’s touch, Zolf’s _everything_ and he has to clench his teeth and still his hand to stop himself from coming there and then.

Zolf chuckles darkly and Oscar gives up on any sense of decorum, tipping his head back and working his hand faster, gathering a frankly obscene amount of slick on his palm to ease the way. He chases the release like he’d chase a particularly errant rhyme scheme and comes so hard that he feels a splatter of it hit his sternum. Oscar laughs through the thudding of his heart in his ears and the lights behind his eyelids, not sure if he’s amused or impressed by himself.

“What’s it they say?” Zolf asks eventually, drawing Oscar’s gaze back to him. “Bravo?”

“Something like that.” He chuckles, swiping his hair away from his face. “Thank you for holding the applause.”

Zolf grins, getting up to fetch a washcloth and bring it across to the bed. “Thought it might be a bit much.” He murmurs.

Oscar watches him work with tender attention. “I’ll make sure I really earn it next time.”

Zolf tuts, swiping the cloth over his chest. “Gods, man. Try any harder and you’ll hurt yourself.”

Oscar tugs on his hand and pulls him closer, nudging their noses and stealing a kiss. “For you, it would be worth it.”


	16. Body Swap (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing for Oscar Wilde's birthday today other than this. But you know, I feel like he'd appreciate what happens in this chapter. So happy birthday, Oscar.
> 
> This chapter is a follow on from one of my trope fics (<https://archiveofourown.org/works/26172907/chapters/63953311>) but you don't really need to have read it. Simply know that some magical hoodoo swaps Zolf and Oscar's bodies.

(tags:body swap, consensual use of each other's bodies, minor voice kink, anal fingering, anal sex, handjobs, canon-typical Wilde admiring himself)

“You sure this is okay?” Oscar murmurs, stroking a hand over his own chest and watching his body shiver through it.

“Just masturbation isn’t it?” Zolf speaks with a timbre that Oscar is jealous of, having never managed to affect it himself even when performing. 

“Still.” He leans forward to kiss himself, feeling the familiar way his mouth moves from a different perspective. “I feel I should ask permission to fuck you even if it’s the other way around.”

“Ain’t some blushing flower, Oscar.” Zolf smiles, quirky due to the scar that seems so differently roguish on him. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’d not be the first.”

Oscar pouts, feeling the flex of a beard that he’s never considered growing as he ducks down to suck at his own neck. He drags lips up the side of his throat and nibbles at his own ear. “Open yourself up then, handsome.”

Oscar’s always known that he has clever fingers, has been complimented on them by many friends and lovers over his time. But it is quite another thing to be on the receiving end of them. All too soon he is gasping into his own chest, fingers gripping at the sheets on either side of his own shoulders.

“Good?”

Oscar rocks his hips, feeling the curve of two cocks against his belly. “What do you _think_.” He hisses, turning an irritated gaze on his own face. 

If that’s how he looks when he’s smug, perhaps he understands Zolf’s reactions to it a little better now.

Zolf puts his hands on his own hips, lifting Oscar onto his knees and keeping him steady without the prostheses. Oscar reaches down and lowers his hips until the head of his cock slips inside, colouring the air with a groan more wrecked than he has ever heard in Zolf’s voice before.

“Didn’t know I could sound like that.”

Oscar’s eyes screw shut as Zolf chuckles, lifting legs that are longer than any he’s had to deal with before to allow him to start to thrust up, filling Oscar slowly. Oscar gives an experimental rock, cursing and feeling his hands skitter further up his chest to try and find some purchase.

Zolf’s hands flex over his hips and he allows his lover to guide him into something slow and lazy, a back and forth that leaves Zolf deep within him almost the entire time. Oscar watches his face, sees the passing of emotion over it when he groans and clenches down at a nudge to his prostate. 

_I really am made for this_ , he ponders dreamily, watching the dwarven mirth that so often fills Zolf’s gaze somehow making its way through his own eyes instead.

He starts to move with more confidence, the more Zolf guides him, and a fleeting wonder of whether an orgasm will be the magic bullet to tackle their predicament makes him laugh, tipping his head back and grinding down hard.

“Can you imagine if we had to tell Cel—.” He sighs, shifting as sparks settle at the base of his spine. “That we fucked our way back to normal?”

Zolf snorts, moving a hand to wrap around his own cock, expertly working Oscar in all the ways he knows will end this all too soon. Oscar jerks, losing his rhythm and giving over to the _want_ that demands indulgence. 

All too soon he is coming, spilling into Zolf’s grip and clenching around his cock until Zolf follows after, cursing up a storm of dwarvish that Oscar doesn’t understand. It is oddly satisfying to feel his lover soften inside him and feel the evidence of his presence there, even if he is only a tenant in this body.

“Too bad we won’t be telling them about this.” Zolf mutters, drawing Oscar down to curl against his chest. “Isn’t that right?”

Oscar nods, kissing the space over his own heart, and wondering quite how long it’ll be until he breaks that promise in the face of Cel’s knowing glances and his inherent need to gossip.

But. What Zolf doesn’t know won’t hurt him.


	17. Formal Wear (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept it broad about who Hamid is marrying because I don't really have a Hamid ship (yet?), so feel free to insert your character of choice <3

(tags: formal wear, future fic (everyone's FINE STOP ASKING), boys in love, canon-typical Wilde, boys kissing, discussion of masturbation)

He finds it hard to believe that in all the time leading up to this wedding, all of the planning and late nights with Zolf talking Hamid down from a ledge with the quietly forceful calmness that he’s managed to make his hallmark, he never considered that Zolf’s role would require him to wear a suit.

There’s something oddly magical about it, watching from his perch on the end of the bed as Zolf shrugs on the waistcoat, perfectly tailored to hug his body. Purple looks exceptionally good on him, though Oscar suspects he will never wear it again after today. A crying shame, to be sure. 

“I can feel you staring.”

Oscar smiles, resting his palms back on the bed and crossing one leg over the other. “What else would I be doing?”

Zolf shoots him an unimpressed look. “Oh, I don't know. Getting ready?”

“But I'm not in the wedding party Zolf. I don't need to be ready for hours.”

Zolf only grumbles at this, turning away and snatching up the ascot that Hamid insisted upon even though Zolf had claimed it would be hidden beneath his beard. It matches the waistcoat perfectly. _Oh_ and it brings out his eyes… Oscar best not mention that right now, it probably wouldn’t land in the way he’s hoping.

He busies himself with pondering when the last time Zolf wore a tie was. From the way he scowls down at it, likely quite some time, and fashions have probably moved on quite a way since then too. There's a moment of effort, as he hooks it around his neck and tries to get it settled, before he huffs and turns to Oscar instead. 

“Help?”

One of his favourite things about getting to know Zolf, to love Zolf, is to understand how hard he used to find it to ask for assistance, and how much it means that he now does so without hesitation. A younger Oscar would have teased him for it. 

Now he just nods and holds out his hands. 

It's impossible to ignore the way Zolf watches him as he works, carefully looping the ascot into place with memorised motions. He tucks the ends into the collar of the overly-starched shirt and pats his hand over Zolf's chest with a smile. 

“Now who's staring?”

Zolf hums, reaching out for his hair and tucking it softly behind his ear. “You complaining?”

“Oh, heavens no.” Oscar preens. “I live to be admired.” 

Zolf rolls his eyes and moves in for a kiss that Oscar melts into, hooking his ankles lazily on the ground behind Zolf’s feet and looping arms around him. Zolf’s compared his embraces to an overeager octopus before and… well, he supposes that’s not entirely off the mark. He smooths a hand down Zolf’s back, over his perfectly tailored clothing, feeling the solid build of his body beneath…

He moans into the kiss, weak. He can’t help it, something about being wrapped in such luxury making Zolf even _more_ appealing than usual.

Zolf pulls back, a smile on his face. “You horny for me or the clothes?”

Oscar grins. “Yes.”

It earns him a roll of Zolf’s eyes before he’s being kissed again, and that’s _very_ nice indeed. He gives over to it entirely, very glad that he didn’t bother getting dressed, because it’s allowed Zolf to push his dressing gown out of the way, warm palms smoothing over the lines of his torso and up his back. Zolf’s kisses turn sloppy as he traces the muscles of Oscar's back, searching for more tortured groans with strong passes of his tongue. 

If Oscar appreciates Zolf _in_ formal clothing, he’s beginning to suspect the precise opposite is true for Zolf. 

“You’re going to be late.” Oscar murmurs, feeling Zolf’s leg moving slowly against his increasingly interested cock.

Zolf grumbles, kissing him harder and then, very slowly, pauses and pulls back, guilt in his expressive eyes. “He’d never forgive me.”

“Correct.” 

He sighs. “I should go.”

Oscar nods, kissing him a final time. “You should. It’s only downstairs, I won’t be far. Just don’t think about how I’m going to take a shower and thoroughly debauch myself to the mental image of you in a suit.”

“You’re a cruel man.” Zolf says, forcibly extricating himself from Oscar’s arms and shrugging on his jacket with a stream of muttered nonsense that Oscar can’t make out. When he turns back, resplendent and gorgeous, Oscar sighs happily to himself. “Why do I love you?”

“I don’t dare consider.” Oscar replies. “But I’m grateful that you do.”

Zolf hesitates, eyes fixed on Oscars lips… then shakes his head and looks to the door instead. “Okay. See you later. Don’t hurt yourself.” He speaks the last with a smirk.

“Ah, the ultimate indignity. Falling in the shower while masturbating to the memory of my lover.” He winks. “I can look after myself, Zolf. You go save Hamid from what’s probably his third nervous breakdown of the morning.”

Oscar stands and stretches as Zolf walks across the room, the tie around his waist already loosened by Zolf’s hungry touch. When the dwarf turns back at the door to find him shrugging it from his shoulders, he hesitates a final time.

“ _Go_ , Zolf.” Oscar laughs, and he ducks into the bathroom before there can be any further hesitation.


	18. Hair-pulling (M)

(tags: hair pulling, future fic, hair braiding, light d/s, consensual force, previously negotiated kinks)

Wiping damp hands on the soft material of his pyjamas, Zolf wanders out from the bathroom to find Oscar sat at the vanity, eyes fixed on the reflection.

He’s dressed in one of the silk kimonos that he purchased to remind him of ‘the good times’ once everything slowly started returning to something approaching normal, when looking back brought amusement instead of wistful sadness.

Zolf crosses the bedroom to stand beside him, noting the hand that limply holds his hair brush and the fingers that drag thoughtfully over his scar. 

It’s been a while since he saw the man this way. He doesn’t tend to fall to introspection like this anymore, rarely turning quiet and focussing on his ‘flaws’. Zolf thought that side of him packaged away along with the mental anguish of the worst years of their life, and rightly so. 

At least Oscar rarely hides the scar now, even with his magic returned. He made his peace with it a long time ago, learned all the lessons there are to learn about love and trust and mistakes.

Without speaking, Zolf catches up the brush and starts to comb the hair back from Oscar’s face with a gentle care. 

“You alright?”

Oscar hums, his eyes falling closed and hands dropping to his lap. “Just reminiscing.”

Satisfied that the tangles are out of Oscar’s hair, Zolf sets down the brush and starts to use his hands instead, catching up and pulling on different strands. Oscar’s mouth opens, a look of blissful relief on his face and he moans as Zolf makes a fist and _pulls_ , just this side of too hard.

“Good?”

Oscar nods jerkily, which only serves to tug harder. Zolf smiles, tearing his eyes away from Oscar’s reflection to focus on the long fall of hair in his hands. Carefully, he begins to braid the dark hair into something like he used to do with his beard. It’s sloppy, out of practice, but full of tender attention that leaves Oscar purring in his hands.

“Hair’s getting long.”

Oscar smirks. “If it gets me this treatment I see no reason to change that.”

Zolf twists the end of the braid around in his hand and pulls, Oscar’s head tipping back to rest against his chest. Zolf ducks his chin to press a tender kiss to the man’s forehead, twisting the braid even tighter and feeling a shudder race through Oscar’s body.

“Guess it makes you easy to control.”

“Mm, yes _control_ me Zolf.” Oscar says, smirk fading into a wanton moan when Zolf tightens his grip again.

Well, he's not one to turn down such an invite. “Get on the bed, Oscar.”

Oscar’s eyes fix on his reflection, pupils dark in his bright eyes. “Make me.”

Zolf frowns enough that Oscar reaches up to curl a hand over his and squeeze. They’ve talked boundaries many times before, and both of them agreed to draw the line at degradation and unnecessary manhandling, but…

He pulls, sharp and hard until Oscar’s bent over the low back of the chair. With a playful smirk down at the pleased quirk of his lover’s lips, he speaks again. “On the bed. Now.”

Oscar’s breath escapes in a little huff of amusement. “Yes _sir_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a great irony in the fact that this is one of my favourite kinks and yet the one I struggled with most to write, yet I am not surprised.
> 
> Also Oscar reminiscing hits different now huh.


	19. Thigh fucking (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently it's just my personal canon that Oscar is horny for Zolf's legs now? Idk.

(tags: intercrural sex, non-penetrative sex, morning sex, hand jobs) 

“‘Scuse me.”

Oscar smiles into the back of his neck. “Yes?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” Zolf huffs, sliding his fingers over the hand that rests on his belly. 

“Oh but Zolf, it’s one of my favourite tunes.”

Zolf shivers through the rub of Oscar’s stubble over his shoulder, fighting the urge to give in. Oscar’s at his most fae and appealing like this, aroused and unashamed. He’s flattered that something as simple as holding him can instill desire in his lover, even if he’s never particularly experienced the same sort of impulse himself.

“You planning on doing anything with that?” He asks, enjoying the warm passage of Oscar’s lips up his throat.

The hand on his belly slips higher, a thumb rubbing lazily over his nipple. “I had a few ideas. If you don’t object.”

Zolf tips his head to the side which is enough encouragement for Oscar to surge forward, capturing his lips in a hungry, messy kiss that’s definitely not their finest hour. He laughs when Oscar grumbles in displeasure, hips moving against his ass and leaving a line of slick on his skin. “If I objected you’d know.”

Oscar pushes up over him, flailing an arm at the bedside table and fetching up the half-empty bottle of oil. As he settles down he drops a growling kiss to Zolf’s lips and tucks himself in close once more. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.” He says, reaching down between them to take a hold of himself and slide his cock between Zolf’s legs.

It makes Zolf’s head spin a bit to hear the rumbling groan that Oscar tries to stifle as he gives a few experimental thrusts. The sound nudges at something deep inside him, heat growing as Oscar’s cock drags along the sensitive skin at the crux of his thighs.

“Good?” Oscar breathes, hand flexing over his hip.

Zolf groans out a _yes_ and tips his head back against Oscar’s chest. He hears the sound of the oil bottle opening, then the slick press of Oscar’s fingers against his inner thighs. It’s a little different to what they’d usually do with it, but when Oscar moves again it’s clearly the right call, slicking the way for him to move with ease.

“I’ve always loved your legs.” Oscar chuckles, smoothing a hand down to rest on his quad. “So _strong_.”

“Y- You’ve got some odd interests.” Zolf mutters through gritted teeth, grateful Oscar can’t see the flare of heat in his cheeks.

“Au contraire.” Oscar says, letting his hand be guided up to curl around the growing hardness of Zolf’s cock. “I know precisely what I like and I have no shame in letting you know.”

Zolf sighs out a sharp cry of pleasure at the way Oscar works him, the way Oscar’s cock nudges his balls with each lazy thrust. It’s slower than usual, but fiercely intimate with it, Oscar’s chin over his shoulder and chest pressed solid to his back. 

He gives over to it, humming through the gentle pulls and twists of Oscar’s hand. The man’s rhythm turns jerky as he starts to rock into it, clenching his legs tight. 

“C’mon. Give in, Oscar.” He murmurs as faint, throaty encouragement and feels Oscar gasp into his jaw.

“No.” He groans out, tightening his grip. “You first.”

Zolf laughs, but it breaks around a moan at the teasing path of Oscar’s thumb over his head, the hungry little moan the man gives at the slick building there. “Such a gentleman.”

Oscar grins, and he can feel it against his skin. “You know me.”

When Oscar is focused on his pleasure it is almost impossible to resist, the careful attention the man pays to building his arousal and making sure he’s thrumming with pleasure. If the mood so took his lover, Zolf’s sure Oscar could keep him teetering on the edge for hours and he’d thank the man for it, or some shit. But when Oscar wants him to come, there’s no fighting it.

Oscar purrs happily when Zolf breaks, nipping at his jaw and hips working faster to chase quickly after. Zolf feels a sticky warmth between his legs along with the oil, knowing that it’ll be uncomfortable soon enough. For now it just makes him feel hot and lightheaded, his hand smoothing mindlessly up and down Oscar’s forearm.

“Well.” Oscar says, voice low and drowsy. “I’d call that a successful experiment, wouldn’t you?” 


	20. Shower Sex (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just about the closest to proper angst that I get really.
> 
> Also I don't know if the bath house has showers but it is not the last time it appears in this series :eyes:

(tags: shower sex, Japan-typical angst, handjobs, hurt/comfort, near-death experiences) 

Zolf is painfully quiet as they walk through to the bathhouse. Oscar follows with a cautious distance, trying to pretend that his gut isn’t rolling with nervous tension.

What a bloody stupid waste of time this whole thing has been.

“Zolf.”

He doesn’t stop, because of course he doesn’t. Zolf continues moving into the relative privacy of the changing rooms with a grunt and Oscar pinches the bridge of his nose before following.

“Zolf, are you going to ignore me for the rest of the week? Because frankly quarantine is bad enough already and—.”

“ _Stop._ ” 

Oscar pauses, watching with detached interest as Zolf begins to strip off his sodden clothing. “Excuse me?”

“I said stop, Oscar.” He continues, shaking his head like a dog to rid his hair of some of the rainwater that’s flattened it. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh.” Oscar says quietly, something about Zolf using his name punching him right in the solar plexus. “I do apologise.”

Zolf pauses, half-out of his trousers, something like regret passing over his face before he sighs and turns away, finishing up and wandering through to the showers without speaking further. Oscar watches him go, the roiling mass of discomfort in his belly turning now to a lead weight as he follows in Zolf’s footsteps, bypassing the man’s chosen cubicle and taking one of his own for the first time in several weeks.

It’s easy, once he’s under the heated water, to pretend that the wetness on his cheeks isn’t a product of his own fears and cowardice getting the better of him. Oscar braces his hands on the wall and screws his eyes shut, allowing the thundering of water to hide the torrent of voices in his head that tell him what a bad leader he is, a bad friend, a bad lover. He shouldn’t have risked it, but the temptation of new intel was too much to ignore.

He’s so deep in his own head that he doesn’t notice movement behind him until there are arms around his waist, a forehead pressed to his lower back. His breath hitches around a choked-off sob and he knows Zolf must feel his trembling, if the soothing stroke of palms over his belly is anything to go by.

Eventually he straightens, turning and dropping to his knees in one smooth move to see Zolf, red-eyed and blotchy cheeked. He lets out a quiet sound of grief, leaning in to tuck his forehead into the curve of Zolf’s shoulder.

“It’s too dangerous for you to be out there now with anyone but me.” Zolf says very quietly, oddly eloquent for a man who’s been giving him the silent treatment for several hours. “Without your magic you’re a risk. I don’t trust Carter and Barnes to keep you safe.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Zolf says, sounding a bit surprised. “Okay, good. Thought you might fight me more on that.”

“You nearly _died_.” Oscar whispers.

Zolf’s hand strokes back some of the hair from his face, urging him to look up. “I didn’t. I’m hardier than all that, Oscar. But I’m not putting you in a situation where removing your anklets is going to seem like a viable idea _ever again_.”

Oscar nods, halfway through thinking of something meaningful to say when Zolf kisses him, soft and loving and _forgiving_ and it makes fresh tears spring to his eyes. Oscar clings to him, drawing him close enough that there’s no space between them, the sound of the water swallowing up his tears and groans both.

“What do you need?” Zolf asks, allowing only enough space between their lips to speak.

“You.” Oscar whines. “Always you, Zolf. Only you.” 

He won’t stop kissing Zolf, even as a hand slips between them and starts to work at him. Zolf swallows his gasps, holding them both up as Oscar clings to his only port in a storm, teeth catching on Zolf’s lip and biting down hard. It earns him a scratch of nails over his shoulders that makes him arch and throb and _need_ —.

He comes with a wordless shout, the evidence of it washed away with the rest of his grief, leaving him slumped against Zolf until the water starts to run cold.

“Come on, let’s get you inside before you catch a chill. There’s a cell with our name on it.”

Oscar nods, getting to his feet with a wince and letting Zolf lead him back to their things. They have a week together now, whether they wanted it or not. In that, at least, he can find comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'hardier than all that' is my blind attempt to get 'loadsa hit points' into a fic tbh


	21. Bondage (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by an idea that the lovely cinphoria suggested to me after one of the episode tags I wrote - thank you so much for the inspiration!
> 
> Really we can blame this one on Ben Meredith for revealing that the ship's wheel locks.

(tags: bondage, semi-public sex, blowjobs, handjobs, telepathy, voice kink (sort of?), loud sex kink) 

The majority of the crew will be sleeping for several hours yet. A few of the kobolds are pottering about outside the deck but the windows are just a bit too high for them to see in.

This should be fine. It’s a risk… but it should be fine.

“It’s not like you to be so equivocal Zolf.”

He raises his gaze to look at Oscar with a disbelieving expression. “Really?”

Oscar looks heavenward, swiping a strand of hair out of his face. “Fine. Perhaps it is, but I was really rather hoping you might have a _reason_ for asking me to come up here when I could be sleeping. Which I’ll remind you is something you’re always trying to get me to do more of.”

Zolf exhales slowly to fight the urge to retort. Oscar is a menace at the best of times, but when he doesn’t _know_ something it’s relentless. 

With a small smile, he starts walking towards the man with purpose, watching Oscar’s lips quirk as he quickly cottons on to the intent. He starts to back up, going precisely where Zolf wants him to be, eyes getting all wide when he feels the wheel up against his back.

“It’s locked.” Zolf says, though as much should be obvious given that no one is steering. “Unlike the doors.”

Oscar whines softly. “Oh, I _see_.”

“You do.”

The small strips of cloth that he pulls out of his pocket wouldn’t be enough to keep Hamid bound, let alone Oscar, but it’s the act itself more than its severity that makes Oscar sag into the support of the wheel with a faint laugh. He watches, interested, as Zolf secures his wrists to either side of the wheel and leans down in search of a kiss once the task is complete.

Zolf grumbles, granting it for a moment longer than he really should allow, and then pushing him back up. “Don’t make me bind you more.”

Oscar’s smirk is quick. “Mm, that would be a real shame.”

Zolf scoffs, slowly unbuttoning as little of Oscar’s coat as he needs to. They’re protected from the elements inside the cabin but it’s still cold as balls and that’s the last thing he wants Oscar to be worrying about right now.

“So I’d normally tell you to be quiet.” He says, stepping back and admiring the outline of Oscar’s hardening cock through his trousers. “But I don’t think you can be trusted. So thought we might play with something.”

“Oh?” Oscar asks with a raised eyebrow. “Do tell.”

Pulling out the eggshells that he’s carried with him for gods know how long now, Zolf quietly casts the spell, then notes with amusement that Oscar looks a little lost.

“ _Well?”_

Oscar gapes at him. “Zolf, what?”

“ _That’s not quiet, Oscar._ ”

Oscar’s mouth snaps shut and his gaze darkens. “ _How long have you been able to do this and why is it the first I’m hearing of it_?”

Zolf steps in close, smiling up at Oscar with a smugness that is usually more prone to be worn by his lover’s face. “ _Cos I like that you’re loud._ ”

Zolf smoothes a palm over Oscar’s crotch and watches his eyebrows raise. “ _Well at least I’ve finally got you to admit it._ ”

He can’t help but laugh out loud at that, the sound of material parting the only other sound in the cabin. Zolf watches Oscar bite his lip to stifle a sound, then a moment later a lurid moan comes over their telepathic connection.

Oh. 

He might have miscalculated, somewhat.

It’s been several weeks since Oscar’s been able to truly let go, always someone around to overhear. And the man certainly makes up for it now, a litany of sound bouncing around Zolf’s head as he works at Oscar with his hands and tongue. 

He’s not sure who’s goading who more. The heat of his mouth and the slick passage of his hand only makes Oscar fall to more rapturous hunger, his name tripping over and over from the man’s metaphorical tongue. It makes him feel all hot and bothered. 

He leans back to watch Oscar’s face only to find the man’s eyes fixed on him, chest heaving and eyes bright with emotion. He _shouts_ inside Zolf’s head, cock pulsing and Zolf leans in in time to swallow him down and catch the spill of release on his tongue. 

Oscar’s knees go all unsteady as Zolf tucks him away and wraps him back up against the chill. His wrists are slightly reddened from the cloth bindings but he stops Zolf from fretting over them with a shake of his head.

“ _Back to bed?”_ Oscar says, running a gloved thumb over Zolf’s lips. 

“ _For you, yes. Someone’s gotta fly this thing_.”

“ _You’re very good to me, Zolf._ ” Oscar says, along with a faint hum of contentment. “ _It’s also very sweet that you didn’t expect me to rise to the occasion of a good performance._ ”

 _“Yeah, well didn’t exactly work out too badly for me did it?_ ” Zolf hums, tugging Oscar down for a brief kiss. “ _Now, get_.”

“ _Shall we test how far the spell stretches_?” Oscar grins from the door.

Zolf smiles, unlocking the wheel and taking up his post once more. “ _Long as you tell everyone that it’s your fault we crashed into a mountain._ ”

Oscar laughs properly as he walks away, the sound carrying on the air back to Zolf’s ears along with his voice, as loud as if he were right beside him. “ _It will be my_ **_pleasure_**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell Zolf uses is [Telepathic Bond](https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/t/telepathic-bond), which is on Zolf's spell sheet for... reasons?
> 
> Also I'm sorry about the joke at the end, I finished this before 173, I promise.


	22. Threesome (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I could leave Grizzop out of this did you?

(tags: threesome - Grizzop/Wilde/Zolf, established Zolf/Wilde, size difference, anal fingering, anal sex, goading, biting, aftercare)

“You gonna do it, Wilde? Or are you _scared_?”

Zolf smiles through the kiss he drops on Oscar’s throat, laving his tongue over the marks that Grizzop’s already left there. Twin arcs of little indents, so much more than his mouth can manage.

“Hardly.” Oscar sniffs, derisive like he hasn’t got two fingers deep in the goblin’s ass. “Simply taking my time with you.”

“Well you can stop that.” Grizzop sets his palms more firmly on the bed, widening the set of his knees. “Just fuck me already.”

Zolf watches over Oscar’s shoulder at the jump of his cock, the way he slowly draws his fingers free and curls that hand over Grizzop’s slim hip. The man turns his head and Zolf kisses him, deep and hungry. It’s the kind of kiss Zolf lives for, full of the truly unbridled force of Oscar Wilde.

“Oi, Zolf. Stop distracting him.”

Zolf pulls back with a smile, enjoying the defeated whine and slack expression of his lover. “You heard him.”

Oscar pulls himself together with as much skill as he’s always wielded, smirk back in place as he grips himself and leans forward, pressing his cock against Grizzop’s hole and slowly sinking inside.

Grizzop howls, high and _aching_ as Oscar slides in, slow and steady. It shouldn’t work, Zolf knows, the goblin’s slight form compared to Oscar’s lanky, toned human body. But they’ve been careful with him, prepared him properly, and with care, Oscar continues until he’s bottomed out with a sigh that sounds like it’s wrenched straight from his gut.

“Good?” He asks, tremulous and hopeful.

Grizzop nods, his ears flicking anxiously. “Better if you move. Now.”

Zolf watches as Oscar draws out, moving about halfway and then thrusting in hard enough to set Grizzop’s arms wobbling. He hears a faint ripping sound as the goblin’s claws dig into the sheets and smiles. 

Without speaking, Zolf drags his fingers down Oscar’s back and proceeds to rub his index finger over Oscar’s hole in turn. The man sighs, halfway to a laugh, as Zolf begins to work him open with practiced fingers. It catches him between the steady, familiar force of Zolf and the new, exciting energy of Grizzop, poised and balanced and liable to tip over the edge into _too much_ at any moment.

“ _Fuck_ , Wilde.” Grizzop grinds out, moving back into the bard with searching little motions of his hips. “Like that. More like that.”

Oscar snickers out a laugh, circling his hips just so. “He’s more demanding than you, Zolf.”

Zolf leans in, crooking his fingers to feel Oscar’s thrusts go all unsteady. “No bad thing. You love a challenge.”

Grizzop comes first, full of Oscar and desperate for it. The goblin's head drops, breath coming in little whines and weathering the force of Oscar searching for his own release as Zolf presses fingers hard to his prostate. 

He worries it might have been too much, with the way Oscar curls in on himself and bites at his lip to stifle his cry, hips jerking a couple of times and then going still. He uses his free hand to guide the man down beside Grizzop and then moves away to fetch a cloth to clean them both gently. The sheets are a lost cause, ripped and sullied as they are, but each of them shoots him a small smile of gratitude as he works.

“See why you love him.” Grizzop says after, uncharacteristically fond in the afterglow.

“I do.” Oscar murmurs, catching up Zolf’s hand and drawing it to his lips for a kiss. “I truly do.”


	23. Praise (M)

(tags: praise, affirmations, heavy themes - set in Japan post Oscar's scar, handjobs, kissing) 

“You’re a good leader.”

Oscar sighs, faint and defeated, his head hanging forward. Zolf grits his teeth against the urge to say something coarser, trailing his fingertips over the line of his shoulders and up to gather the man’s hair in a lax grip. He leans in and presses his lips just under Oscar’s ear, inhaling the warmth of his skin. 

“You keep us safe.”

Oscar shivers, giving another mournful sound but leaning in towards the heat of Zolf’s kiss. Tugging a little on the bound length of Oscar’s hair, Zolf trails lips around the back of the man’s neck, along to rest against the line of his jaw, solid with tension.

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Stepping back, Zolf drops Oscar’s hair and moves around to face the man, taking stock of the quiet stream of tears falling from his eyes. Oscar’s long since learned how to disguise the true extent of his grief. He thinks it keeps him safe, and Zolf doesn’t consider himself an expert in coping strategies, so doesn’t bother to suggest otherwise.

But this. This he can do.

He reaches out, taking Oscar’s face in his hands, mindful of the line of his scar which has only just started to lose its redness. He uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears as they fall.

“You are good at what you do.” He says, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest when Oscar resists looking away. “And I love you.”

Oscar presses his lips into a thin line, nodding jerkily a couple of times. He doesn’t respond, but Zolf can see enough in his eyes to say the affirmations are starting to get through.

“You’re handsome.” He says, and _this_ makes Oscar scoff. “You _are_. A scar ain’t gonna change that.”

Oscar’s eyes close as he moves in for a kiss, gentle and slow. He straddles Oscar’s lap then, shifting his weight to sit comfortably, feet hanging just shy of reaching the floor. Oscar moves his hands to rest over Zolf’s thighs, fingers flexing restlessly.

“You’re so good for me.” He continues, reaching out to undo the top few buttons of Oscar’s shirt. He leans in to kiss the exposed skin, feeling a grumbling moan through the man’s skin. “So responsive.”

Oscar’s grip tightens, and he moves his lips to suck at the ridge of collarbone revealed by the open shirt. His hands work to undo the rest of the buttons, pulling the shirt free of Oscar’s trousers with several quick tugs. Pushing it down enough to expose the man’s chest, Zolf sits back and admires the expanse of skin, the faint dusting of hair.

Oscar sighs, less sorrowful now, shifting a little in his seat. Zolf rests one hand over the man’s heart and drags the other down his stomach, settling over the soft warm skin of his lower belly.

“I trust you.”

“An odd choice.” Oscar hums, but there’s a faint tinge of humour to it.

Zolf smiles, enjoying the hastening thud of Oscar’s heart beneath his palm as he starts to unfasten the man’s trousers. “And yet.”

Oscar grows hard quickly in his hand, hips starting to move in searching little circles. “Good, Oscar.”

He leans in to swallow Oscar’s whine with a snarling kiss, thrilling at the hot press of Oscar’s tongue. He continues to murmur praise, half-lost to Oscar’s lips, but feels the effect of it in the way the man comes undone beneath his touch.

Zolf pulls back with a gasp, greedily drinking in the naked pleasure on his lover’s face. “So good for me, Oscar.” 

“ _Zolf_ …” 

“That’s it.” He murmurs, swiping his thumb over the slick gathering at Oscar’s tip. “That’s it. Give in. You’re doing so well.”

Oscar gives a faint laugh as he pulses in Zolf’s grip, the tension leaving him in a rush. His forehead goes smooth for the first time in weeks, no pinch between his brows as Zolf leans in to press a kiss to his lips.

“Perfect.” Zolf breathes, stroking his fingertip down the healing edge of Oscar’s scar. “You’re _perfect_.”

“Mm.” Oscar hums, hands sliding around to Zolf’s back and forehead coming to rest against his shoulder. “I think you’ll find that’s my line. But... you can borrow it for now.” 


	24. Food Play (E)

(tags: food play, Zolf cooking, teasing, finger sucking, light body worship, licking, blowjobs) 

It starts innocently enough.

He’s wandering through the kitchen at the inn one day when Zolf calls him over, holding out a spoon with a sweetly hopeful look on his face. Oscar obliges, leaning in to taste the broth and giving a gentle groan of pleasure at the salty spice that fills his mouth.

When he opens his eyes again, there’s a line of pink over the bridge of Zolf’s nose that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove.

“Lovely, Zolf. I think everyone’s going to really enjoy it.”

He leaves him be then, and pretends not to notice the curses as Zolf stumbles and drops the spoon with a loud clatter.

The next time he taste tests for their meals he goes to dip a finger in the pan and receives a swift rap from a wooden spoon to his knuckles.

“Dunno where your hands have been.” Zolf says, dipping a smaller spoon in the sauce and handing it to him.

Oscar smirks, because by now Zolf is more than a little familiar with where his hands go and what precisely they can _do_ , but he doesn’t comment beyond a knowing look. He sticks his tongue out and laps at the sauce with a hum, closing his eyes at the intense burst of flavour.

“Oh, Zolf you are _far_ too good at this.”

Zolf’s scowl doesn’t disguise the heat in his gaze, and Oscar swans out of the kitchen feeling entirely too pleased with himself.

By the time Zolf asks him again, Oscar is slightly dizzy from pre-dinner sake and staring so adoringly at the dwarf that Barnes has already commented on it twice. He watches as Zolf glances at him, perched on a stool beside the stove and reaches up to dip his own finger into the food, offering it out to him with a smirk.

Oscar smiles, reaching out for Zolf’s wrist and drawing it towards his mouth. With a groan, he allows his lips to encircle Zolf’s finger, tongue twining lasciviously up and down to catch up all of the flavour. He hums, feeling a faint shiver move along Zolf’s arm and then sucks, hard, grazing his teeth over the tip of the man’s finger before settling back.

A cough from the doorway stops him from saying anything further, and Zolf turns to the stove in a nervous hurry to avoid any comments. Oscar glances over to find Carter scowling and raises an eyebrow, getting nothing but a sour look in response. 

Really. It’s like he’s never been turned down before.

Another few weeks pass full of too little sleep and too many worries when there’s a knock at his bedroom door, Zolf loitering just outside.

“There you are. I was worried.”

“Inn finally got a shipment of supplies, thought I better help out organising it.”

When he wanders further into the room, Oscar notices he’s keeping his hand behind his back. He quickly sets his book aside and settles himself on the end of the bed, hands in his lap. “What are you hiding?”

Zolf produces a small glass jar of what Oscar eventually deduces is honey, holding it out for Oscar to take.

“Apparently our gold’s good enough to earn us a few luxuries.”

“Okay…” Oscar says quietly, turning the little pot of gold over and over in his hands. It’s been practically a lifetime since he saw honey last. A whole world away. “What made you decide to liberate this from the stores?”

“I thought…” Zolf flushes, looking anywhere but at him, which is very very sweet. “Shit. Once bloody Bertie made a comment about being covered in honey and I never saw the appeal but. Well. That was before you.”

“Were you thinking for you? Or for me?”

Zolf looks at him as if it should be obvious which really, it isn’t, both options striking him as equally thrilling. “You.”

Oscar allows his grin to grow slowly. “It’ll be messy.”

Zolf crosses to him, tugging him in by the neck of his half-open shirt. “Not if I’m quick.”

Oh and he is quick. Quick to strip him, quick to paint his torso with lines of amber. Quick to lick them away with hungry, eager passes of his tongue and groans that go straight to Oscar’s cock, which Zolf appears to be steadfastly avoiding touching. 

“Are you _very_ sure you never saw the appeal?” Oscar mumbles, watching as Zolf scoops a dollop of honey onto a single finger and lets it fall over his cock, painting the straining heat of it in glistening strands.

Zolf sets the jar to one side and leans over to drag his tongue up the underside of Oscar’s cock with a rumbling moan that Oscar too freely matches. “I’m sure. Consider it another thing you’ve opened my eyes to.”

Oscar grimaces through another heated pass of his lover’s tongue. “I’m not entirely sure I can take credit.” He sighs. “But I’m going to anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought this is how I'd mention Bertie but the inspiration takes you where it takes you.
> 
> (Also this would be really fucking sticky and unhygienic, but let's allow the medium of fanfic to handwave it away.)


	25. Biting (M)

(tags: biting, consensual biting, marking, bruising, light d/s) 

Considering a majority of his younger self’s success was down to his appearance, Oscar is strikingly fine with looking a complete state if it’s down to Zolf’s actions.

Hair mussed. 

Throat bruised. 

Scratches on his belly...

And as much as Zolf enjoys the feeling of Oscar's teeth against his shoulder or, if the man's feeling adventurous, his backside, Oscar goes all limp and pliant the very _moment_ Zolf presses teeth to all of that lovely pale skin. 

It's more than a little appealing. 

“More?” Oscar breathes, a gentle request that pairs with the hand settling over his backside and drawing him closer.

Zolf pulls back, giving a grumbled laugh through slick lips. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Mark me, Zolf.” Oscar says with a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Own me.”

It sends an embarrassingly strong flare of heat through him to hear such words from the man. What makes it worse is that Oscar clearly senses it, if the way he's caught his tongue between his teeth is anything to go by. 

Zolf groans, falling into Oscar’s chest and biting down into the divots left by his teeth already. He sucks, hard enough to make Oscar jolt and squeeze legs around his hips, wrapping him up in the sounds and the heat of the man.

Oscar groans loud enough to echo through their room at the inn and Zolf smiles around his mouthful of bard, wondering if the sound’ll carry down to the cell tonight. Would serve Carter and Barnes right to overhea—. 

“ _More_.” 

Zolf grumbles and forces himself back. “Any more and I’ll draw blood. Not wasting a healing potion on you getting infected because you were too horny.”

Oscar pouts, an act that immediately lets Zolf know he’s won the argument. The exaggerated push of his teeth-reddened lower lip says the man understands but doesn’t want to be seen to agree. 

“Fine.” He says, tilting his head to the other side instead and exposing the unmarked expanse of skin on his throat. “Here, then?”

Zolf nods, running his tongue along his lip and watching Oscar’s wide eyes trace the entire movement. 

“That I can do.”


	26. Swallowing (E)

(tags: swallowing, blowjobs, (very very brief) mention of previous relationships, offscreen kink negotiation, Oscar enjoys Zolf being in control)

They’ve been together long enough now that Oscar figures he has a handle on how they’re going to be together, the tone of their interactions and the range of their escapades. It warms him to think that things have progressed so far now as to become familiar. The last time he had a relationship like that was…

Well. No matter.

He allows Zolf to guide him to sit on the bed, opens his arms and spreads his legs for the dwarf to move in close and be embraced, kisses heated and hands greedy across his torso. He’s just about melted when the scrape of Zolf’s teeth over his lower lip makes him groan and—.

“I want to taste you.”

“Gods.” Oscar breathes, staring with unfocussed eyes at Zolf’s wicked grin. The flare of heat that races through him is frankly embarrassing. “Yes. Of course.” 

Maybe he’s presumed too much too quickly. 

He watches mutely as Zolf drops to his knees, aware that he’s gaping a bit like a fish as he allows Zolf to strip the clothes from his lower half. It’s quite something, to see Zolf so assured, to be under his control. It makes him very hard, very quickly, and Zolf’s chuckle when wrapping a hand around his cock makes it only the more impossible to get a handle on himself.

The anticipation that builds in his gut as Zolf leans in escapes in a high whine at the first press of his tongue. The heat of Zolf’s mouth moving down around him makes him feel like he’s floating and heavy all at once. 

Zolf is _good_ at this, which sends a hundred filthy thoughts through his mind, his hand settling over the dwarf’s shoulder and digging into the meat of the muscle there when Zolf moans softly, nose brushing his abdomen.

“ _Gods_ , Zolf.” He says, fighting a bubble of surprised laughter. 

Zolf’s hands move to cup his backside, urging him into a gentle rocking motion. He adapts to it effortlessly, tongue stroking firm against the underside of Oscar’s cock as he draws off to take a deep breath.

“Good?” He asks, though the heat in his eyes tells Oscar he knows the answer already.

“Good?!” Oscar laughs, feeling his control spiral at the hungry look Zolf shoots his cock as it bobs, slick and painfully hard. “Zolf, you are a _revelation_ at every turn.”

The flush across the dwarf’s nose deepens as he leans in again, dragging his tongue over the tip of Oscar’s cock. With a pleased sigh he parts his lips and slides down once more, and Oscar can feel his huff of stifled laughter at the desperate cry that act draws.

It’s all going too fast, Oscar lost in the heat and the pull and the want and the need and the—. He grunts out an oath, pushing at Zolf’s shoulder as he feels the approach of his orgasm.

Zolf ignores him, because of course, and he hasn’t a chance in hell of moving the dwarf at the best of times, but even less when he’s determined and committed. He redoubles his efforts, hand coming up to cup Oscar’s balls and that’s it, that’s enough, that’s everything he’s ever needed and _more._

Oscar sobs around a cry as he comes deep in Zolf’s mouth, as he feels the pull of Zolf's swallow and groan. He sounds almost _grateful_ and it makes Oscar curl in over Zolf, fingers flexing uselessly over his shoulders.

When he pulls back, Zolf’s lips are red and slick, his eyes watery and his cheeks flushed. 

As far as Oscar’s concerned he’s never looked more handsome. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I can't believe we're in the final week. What a ride this has been <3


	27. Aphrodisiacs (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have taken a big liberty with the prompt here - in this case, healing magic counts as an aphrodisiac. Go with it, for me.

(tags: aphrodisiacs, banter, hand jobs, magic use during sex)

“Have you done this before?”

Zolf gives him a look that would make a lesser man feel shamed. Or perhaps a man who wasn't intimate with the precise feel of the hands curving over his hips, the tongue that had only just stopped laving at his nipple. 

“Yes, Oscar. Funnily enough, I _have_ used one of my core spells in the past.”

Oscar huffs, lifting his arms to grip the headboard. “Strangely, that is not what I meant. Sometimes I think you are willfully difficult.” 

Zolf leans in, pressing a sloppy kiss to his stomach. “Only sometimes?” He asks, with a dangerous smirk. 

“Ah, most of the time I simply _know_.”

Zolf chuckles, and Oscar watches as the dwarf shifts to lean in and drag a tongue up the length of his cock. He curses, feeling a tension building in his gut from that alone. Zolf chases the wet heat of his mouth with his palm, smiling at him with such naked affection that it builds a secondary sort of overwhelming tightness in his chest.

“Tell me when you’re close.”

Oscar laughs, hips jerking a little into the slick tight hold of Zolf’s palm. “I’ll do my best.”

Zolf grins, moving until he’s crouching between Oscar’s pulled-up legs. A palm strokes up his thigh and he can _feel_ the magic in Zolf’s touch, a low-level tingle that spreads out from the heat of his lover’s palm. 

“There. A preview.”

Oscar lets his head fall back into the pillows, neck already straining from the greedy want of not tearing his eyes from Zolf. He chews at his lip as the itching pleasure moves over his skin, up his chest and down his belly, pooling with the lust that’s settled heavy there already. 

Zolf rubs a knuckle over the skin between his legs and Oscar shouts, hips bucking a staccato rhythm as he shoots up towards his peak with gasping breaths. It would be so easy to give in quickly, to smile at Zolf and beg a repeat performance once he’s recovered.

But he is both curious and hungry and Zolf’s watching him with that singular focus that truly makes him feel like the only man in the world. 

He all but drowns in it, in the way Zolf's hand moves along him, the way his lover teases his balls, his hole, never quite committing to anything but giving him more than enough stimulation to spiral. 

Zolf’s grip twists just _right_ and Oscar grits his teeth, arching into it. “Close, close love, close.”

With a rumbled groan, Zolf’s palm settles over his stomach and then begins to mutter something that might be an invocation and might just be encouragement. Were it not for the thundering of his pulse Oscar might make an effort to figure it out, but he gives over to release with a lingering cry.

He reaches the peak of his pleasure when Zolf’s magic hits, the positive energy channeling into him and stretching out his orgasm to the point where it feels like he’s floating, wave after wave of pleasure cresting and flowing out of him, over and over. He feels breathless and energised all at once, can feel the wooden frame of the headboard creaking under his grip as he searches for an anchor point beyond Zolf’s touch, Zolf’s voice, Zolf’s love... 

He falls back into the mattress with a long, disbelieving laugh, his body shuddering through aftershocks of pleasure. Zolf shifts to settle beside him, tender hands stroking hair away from his sweaty forehead. 

“How’d that feel?” He asks, once Oscar manages to bring the world into focus again, bright eyes alive with love and mischief.

“Like it’s good Poseidon doesn’t have his claws in you anymore.” Oscar grins. “I don’t think he’d let you go if he knew you could do _that._ ”


	28. Shibari (E)

(tags: shibari, rope bondage, submission, d/s, kink negotiation, explicit consent)

Zolf has calluses on his hands that even years off of ships have not allowed to fade, too many days of hard labour in his past to allow for silky smooth skin. Time has changed little but their position, altered by needing to heft a weapon instead of a skein of rope. 

It's been longer than he cares to remember since he needed to tie a knot but he knows he could do it in his sleep, a half hitch or a bowline as familiar to him as breathing. 

But these arrangements… well.

He's lucky to be able to review Oscar's notes and translations scribbled in the margins of the book he brought back from Japan and the man's quiet acquiescence to practice. 

Because the result promises to be breathtaking if he gets it right. 

The rope they’ll be using isn't like any he's worked with before. Ship's rope would cut and burn Oscar's skin with even the slightest friction. This needs to be solid, restricting but not punishing. So they place a special order with one of Oscar's contacts in the city, and find themselves delivered of a frankly ludicrous amount of soft, silken oxblood rope in relatively short order. 

(Oscar's eyes had widened in the most lovely way when Zolf experimentally wrapped the end of the skein around his wrist. 

"Am I pretty, Zolf?" He'd hummed, a little breathless. 

It had been easy to kiss him, then. "You will be.")

They start with some of the more simple designs, binding one or both of Oscar’s wrists, or wrapping a harness over his chest. It makes Zolf’s heart thud heavily to see the peace that falls over Oscar when he pulls the rope tight. The tension leaves his shoulders, his jaw. His mouth parts to allow little contented exhales and Zolf trails a thumb over the plush softness of his lower lip just to hear him groan.

After one such night he holds Oscar close, hand stroking through the fall of the man’s hair with a contented sort of bliss. 

“Are you getting what you need from this?” He asks, smiling when Oscar turns his head to smile up at him. 

“I am. I could take more, though.” He smiles, drawing a fingertip over Zolf’s cheek. “How about you?”

“Not gonna complain about tying you up and making you look good.” Zolf smiles. “You want to take it further next time?”

Oscar hums, leaning up to steal a kiss. “Yes. Please.”

The next time Oscar comes to him with the width of his shoulders taut with stress and his brow pinched, Zolf pulls him down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Go get undressed and kneel on the floor.”

He finds his lover in front of the fire, a folded blanket beneath his knees. Already there’s a peace on his face that wasn’t there before. As Zolf moves towards the cupboard to fetch the rope, he spots a small smile growing on the man’s face and allows his own expression to mirror it when he walks back across the room.

“Arms tied?”

Oscar nods, then remembers himself and shoots Zolf a blinding smile. “Yes, please.”

Zolf works carefully, looping rope around Oscar’s torso in a way that he’s practiced several times now. He gently guides Oscar’s arms behind his back and works rope around his biceps and wrists to hold him there. As soon as he’s bound Zolf can see the tension bleed out of Oscar’s spine, his body sinking a little more into the support of his shins on the floor.

“Gonna try something.” He says, letting twin lengths of rope fall down and part either side of Oscar’s cock. “Good?”

“Yes.” 

Oscar’s breathing picks up as Zolf ducks to pull the rope between his legs, guiding it up and through the loop at his neck. He pulls it tight, feeling a tremor run through Oscar’s body. Glancing down he sees his lover growing hard and smiles, pressing his lips to Oscar’s temple. 

“Very good, Oscar.”

Oscar sighs, a moan caught behind suddenly-gritted teeth when Zolf ties off the rope, pulling his work tight and leaving Oscar _held_. 

“Could leave you here.” Zolf says, making a slow circle around Oscar. “Looking pretty, aching for more.”

Zolf watches the man’s nostrils flare as he considers it, waits to see if he’s going to comment further. There’s a want in Oscar’s eyes that he can’t quite parse - for the thought of being untouched and observed, perhaps, or the need for stimulation for the straining length of his cock?

Zolf steps in close, trailing his fingers over the skin revealed by the pattern of his ropework. “Always been selfish though.”

Oscar laughs quietly as Zolf drags warm fingers up the underside of his cock. “Lucky me.”


	29. Rimming (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came to me on some sort of fever dream of productivity in the final days of writing these and in large part inspired by one of [@starstrung's amazing fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619832).

(tags: rimming, early relationship, shared bath, coming untouched, little a bit of light rule breaking as a treat, canon-typical undressed Zolf)

“You know, I could get used to this place.”

Zolf smirks, tipping his head back against the wooden edge of the bath. His arms are long, muscular lines as they brace his weight, his tattoos peeking out of the water and steam. 

Oscar wonders if he knows what a picture he makes. 

Probably not. That's not Zolf Smith's style. 

In which case, he is being extraordinarily cruel, and Oscar will continue to admire him, as retaliation. 

“Not far behind you there, Wilde.”

Oscar hums, shifting beneath the water and letting the sheer heat of it lap over his skin and overworked muscles. If he stretches out his left leg a little it would touch the skin of Zolf's thigh. He sort of wants to. To goad the dwarf into something. It's been a few weeks since they first started fumbling through a series of hookups. He is uniquely acquainted now with the man's mouth, his fingers, his cock. But there's something else growing there too. 

The secret smiles that Zolf gives him. The way his eyes linger just a moment too long. The _concern_ in his eyes when he brings breakfast (or lunch, or dinner) and stays to make sure it's eaten. 

Oscar’s falling, fast. 

Zolf opens his eyes and catches Oscar looking. It's a good thing he can blame the flush on his skin on the heat of the springs. 

“You done cleaning up?”

Oscar shrugs, chasing it with a smirk. “More or less.”

Zolf nods, using the buoyancy of the water to guide himself across to settle beside Oscar. A hand runs up the length of Oscar's thigh, settling just shy of where his interested cock is starting to stir. 

“I'm pretty sure there are rules against this.” Oscar says breathlessly, nodding at the guidance in Japanese on the wall that he is barely proficient enough to understand. 

“Screw the rules.” Zolf huffs, leaning in to kiss the side of his throat. “We're saving the world.” 

Oscar laughs, but the hot curl of Zolf's palm around his hardening cock steals any sort of sense that might follow it up. He grins widely when Zolf's other hand cups his backside, fingers probing casually at his rim. 

“Oscar…” Zolf murmurs into his skin. “Can I…?” 

The finger that pushes against him finishes the question that Oscar thinks he might combust upon hearing in Zolf's gruff tones. 

“You can.”

“Turn around. Arms on the ledge.” Oscar does so, the water lapping at his waist and he looks over his shoulder to find Zolf eyeing him critically, looking like there's some puzzle to solve. “Put your knees on the bench.” 

Oscar complies, smiling when it exposes all but his knees and shins to the heated air of the baths. 

“Better.”

The bottom falls out of his stomach when Zolf takes his backside in two strong hands and parts him, letting out a small growl of hunger. Oh. _Oh_. 

He barely has time to reconcile the truth of Zolf's intentions before there's a tongue swiping hot and hungry over him and Oscar shouts out a laughing curse, forehead falling to rest upon his hands. 

“Good?” Zolf mutters into the meat of his backside, thumb stroking over the slickness left by his tongue.

“By the gods Zolf, _yes_.”

He hears a soft sound of interest just before Zolf’s mouth is back on him, tongue working him open with a steadfast attention that really shouldn’t surprise him by now but _delights_ regardless. Oscar groans, stifling the sound in his forearm as it breaks into a whimper when Zolf’s hands grip his hips and tug him closer.

He can feel the water cresting and falling around his cock, exposing him briefly to the air with each little rock that Zolf urges him into. It’s a curiously appealing sensation that he can’t quite get on top of - the mix of stimuli sends his hands scrabbling for purchase. He arches, trying to encourage Zolf deeper and all but _sings_ as it works, it works, it gives him everything he needs.

“Greedy.” Zolf murmurs on a pause for breath, with so much affection that Oscar’s heart clenches.

“Only for you.” Oscar sighs, grinding back into the renewed eagerness of Zolf’s tongue. “Gods, Zolf, _only for you_.”

He comes with his lover’s name on his lips and smile against his skin, the ache of it shooting through him like a bolt of heat. He’s still gasping, willing his heart to slow when Zolf floats to rest beside him, barely stifling the pleased look on his face.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Oscar says, enjoying the bashful look that spreads over Zolf’s face, as if he hasn’t just thoroughly undone him.

His hand is gentle as it swipes back his hair, Oscar leaning into it with a faint purr. “Dunno. Guess we’ll see.”


	30. Leather (E)

(tags: leather, post-canon, retirement cottage by the sea, mutual admiration, outdoor sex, hand jobs, jealous exes(obliquely), Oscar is loud pass it on)

He would never say that he’s unaware of the way that Zolf looks at him sometimes. It makes him feel warm right through to his core, to be appreciated, to be admired. 

He’s a vain man, and wouldn’t ever claim to be otherwise.

It’s part of the reason he purchased these trousers in the first place.

They don’t have much cause to go adventuring, anymore. Retirement suits them both too much. He’s never seen Zolf more content than now, where he’s the master of his own kitchen, feeding friends and testing recipes and chasing Oscar out when he gets in the way.

Sometimes, though, they get overcome by the urge to explore, to roam. Today is one such day, and as Zolf packs up a lunch for them to take on their little hike, Oscar slips into his wear-softened leather trousers and sturdy boots with a smile.

Zolf admires but doesn’t comment on his outfit, too convinced that they’re going to miss the best of the weather if they don’t get out the door immediately. Oscar acquiesces, in turn not commenting on the way Zolf’s palm settles on his backside to guide him out the front of the house. 

The sound of the sea follows them as they walk along the cliffside. They chose this place because of its isolation, and they frequently go days without seeing a soul. It’s the perfect respite given the life they led to get here, and allows them the freedom of their little corner of the world. 

When Zolf turns towards the midday sun with a smile, letting it light upon his face, Oscar feels a little breathless. 

“Shall we stop a while?”

Ten minutes later finds them set up on a picnic blanket, Oscar’s hair blowing happily in the sea breeze. Zolf’s lunch is filling and satisfying and along with the bottles of ale that were also packed, a feeling of lazy satisfaction settles over him.

It’s broken by a quiet sound of amusement from beside him, and then he has a sudden lapful of dwarf.

“Oh! Hello there.” He smiles, settling his hands on Zolf’s waist.

“Don’t act all surprised. You’re the one who wore those trousers.”

Oscar laughs, sliding one hand up Zolf’s back to tangle in the increasingly-lengthy mess of his hair. “It certainly wasn’t for this reason.”

Zolf rolls his eyes and leans in for a kiss that’s equal parts laughter and heat. His arms wind around Oscar’s shoulders and Oscar melts into it, blinking owlishly when Zolf pulls back.

“Sure it wasn’t. You tell such pretty lies.”

“It’s a talent.” Oscar says, cursing the breathless turn of his voice. The weight of Zolf in his lap and the pleasant motion of his lover’s hips has made the tightness of his trousers unexpectedly restrictive.

“Regretting it?” Zolf smirks, grinding himself down against the growing hardness.

“That depends. I might, if you leave me cruelly wanting.” He gasps, turning his face into the side of Zolf’s neck. 

“Out here?” Zolf’s voice rumbles against his lips, a teasing vibration all while still riding his lap. “Anyone could see.”

Oscar scoffs, nipping at Zolf’s skin and, giving in to the heat coiling in his gut, cupping his palms over Zolf’s lovely backside. “No one will see, Zolf. And if they do, then lucky them.”

It is freeing, in its way, to move with his lover under the open sky, to cry his pleasure to the heavens and the winds and the crashing of waves. Zolf reaches down and eases the ache by unfastening both of their trousers and catching their cocks up in his heated grip.

He digs his fingers into Zolf’s skin so deep that he fancies he’ll be able to count the bruises later, swallowing the dwarf’s groans and smiling at the way his palm tightens in response. 

Oscar allows himself to be loud, feels what that does to Zolf and doubles down, unrepentant in letting all who dare listen in know of the raptures of pleasure he feels at Zolf’s touch. By the end he is almost singing, feels the flush of his power melding with the warmth of Zolf’s and allows it to chase him into release right alongside his lover.

At almost the same moment, a large wave hits the cliff face and sprinkles them in the barest hints of seawater.

Zolf rears back from their kiss with a broad smile, looking over his shoulder. “Yeah, fuck you too! Just cos you’re not getting any!”

“Zolf, perhaps don’t goad the gods with your trousers down.” He smiles, watching the pleased spread of a flush across Zolf’s cheeks. 

“Give it five minutes first, d’you think?” He asks, smiling broader when Oscar whispers out a cast of prestidigitation.

“Yes, yes. It’s only polite.”


	31. Anal Sex (E)

(tags: anal sex, post-canon, very established relationship, two men very deeply in love)

He’s loved Oscar for so long now that he’s forgotten what it’s like not to live with his heart safe in the warmth of the man’s hands.

Oscar’s smiles and little touches, his begrudging and tender acquiescence to Zolf’s acts of love. The ways he expresses his love as freely as he breathes, the effusive way he responds to every touch Zolf lays on his skin.

He doesn’t stop to consider it very often, because he thinks he could very easily lose himself to it. That Oscar Wilde, journalist, playwright, handler, ex-Meritocrat, darling of the upper classes, chose him. _Him_. Of all the many options available, Oscar looked at him and decided he was a safe place to land.

Zolf watches as his lover readies himself for bed, days reading outside in the summer sun having turned his formerly pale skin a delightful golden brown. He doesn’t like it, but Zolf sees it as showing he’s living a comfortable life, able to spend enough time in one place to catch the sun.

He’s finally putting on a little weight too, his ribs only showing when he bends, his limbs looking less like they’d crumple under a stiff breeze. It works for Zolf in a way that he couldn’t have predicted, to see the comfort that’s led Oscar to settle down, to see the impact of the meals he’s prepared on the man’s body.

Oscar wanders through to the bathroom and emerges a moment later without his shirt, kicking his trousers away as he crosses the room to the dresser.

There are relatively few times when his body reacts to arousal before Oscar’s does. But something about the rays of moonlight kissing off of his lover’s skin sends a deep shudder of sensation through him. He grumbles, settling his hand over his stirring cock and indulging in the feeling of blood flowing heavy and fast to throb under his touch.

“Zolf?” Oscar asks, turning at the sound of his utterance, pyjamas clutched in one hand. He smiles when he sees the heat of Zolf’s gaze, the gentle little motions of Zolf’s hand, dropping his quarry and shutting the drawer quickly. “Oh. I suppose I won’t be needing these after all.” 

“Get over here.” Zolf huffs, because he’s impatient now. Even if Oscar knowing it will turn his lover into a smug son of a bitch, he wants the man in bed, _now._

Oscar settles on his knees at the edge of the mattress, moving towards Zolf in a casual crawl. He stops to drop a kiss on Zolf’s knee, then drags his lips up, up until he is peering with interest at the casual stroke of Zolf’s hand.

“Hello there.” He says, as if addressing an old friend, then glances up, impish and pleased. “What did you have in mind?”

Zolf swallows down a groan as he moves his hand away, pressing at Oscar’s shoulders until the man is flat on his back.

“I want you.” Zolf murmurs, settling his weight over Oscar’s thigh and rocking just enough to maintain the low thrum of heat in his belly. “Wanna be in you.”

“Oh Zolf.” Oscar says on a sharp exhale, his face lighting up. “Yes, please. I’d love that.”

“How?”

Oscar's gaze softens. “However you want me.”

Zolf turns the options over in his head and smiles, reaching out to snatch one of the multitude of pillows on Oscar’s side of the bed. He taps the man’s hip to get him to lift and shoves it under his bum. When he spots Oscar regarding him curiously, he feels a heat come to his cheeks.

“Want to see your face.” He says, turning away before he can see the man’s reaction and fetching the oil from the bedside table.

“You’re an incurable romantic.”

“Bit rich, coming from you.” Zolf retorts, but he’s smiling as he unstoppers the bottle and drizzles it on Oscar’s skin with unnecessary carelessness.

He watches Oscar's face as he readies the man, drinks in every minute change in his expression. It's easy to get lost in his eyes, to feel wrapped up in his keen expressions of love, the little sighs and moans that each stretch of fingers draws. Oscar has a talent for making him feel like the only person in the world. It's only now that he's learning to revel in that. 

Oscar's long legs pull up as Zolf moves over him, ankles crossing at the small of Zolf's back with a tender little smile. 

It's intoxicating to watch his cock disappear inside Oscar's body. To see him open with each little push, to feel his desperate heat. To lose himself in that moment of claiming, of loving. 

He feels a hand cup his cheek and allows Oscar to guide his attention back, drinks in the effects of his actions on his lover’s face. Oscar groans, eyes screwing closed when Zolf fills him completely, a whisper of _Zolf, please_ floating prettily on the air.

When he moves, Oscar’s arms come around him and he shifts so that they’re pressed in close together, the line of Oscar’s cock leaving smears of slick against his stomach. He wants to speak, to say the words that are rattling around in his head but finds himself rapt by Oscar instead. Unable to do little more than grind into him, again and again, Zolf judges what he needs by each sigh, each moan, each bubble of delicious laughter.

He’s gone before he knows it, the rhythm of their fucking familiar and enthralling, and he falls into the push and pull of pleasure, lips playing over Oscar’s chest and hands heavy at the man’s hips, thighs and stomach.

When Oscar comes he practically _sings_ with it, and Zolf follows with a breathless groan, spilling into the clamping heat of Oscar’s body, falling against the man to catch his breath with a faint chuckle.

“Well.” Oscar murmurs eventually, gentle fingers stroking through his hair. “You continue to outdo yourself, after all this time.”

Zolf grins, propping his chin on his lover’s chest. “Consider me inspired. You never been someone’s muse before?”

Oscar’s breath catches, a hint of moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head. “No, Zolf.” He breathes, catching up Zolf’s palm and pressing a kiss to the centre of it. “No one who mattered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are. I had to end it on a hideously sweet note, because this month has really been one of the best of recent memory for me - to everyone who's engaged with this, encouraged me and been so utterly lovely, I can only say a heartfelt thank you. You are all incredible.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Good Vibrations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710453) by [HoloXam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/pseuds/HoloXam)




End file.
